Severus, Redux
by TycheSong
Summary: A time travel story. When Fifth Year Severus Snape tries to create a forward time traveling elixir to prove his worthiness to join Lord Voldemort, he is disappointed to find that his creation is worthless. Or is it?
1. Chapter 1

**Summary:** A time travel story. When fifth-year Severus Snape tries to create a forward time-travelling philter to prove his worthiness to Lord Voldemort, he is disappointed to find that his creation is worthless. Or is it?

**Disclaimer:** All recognizable characters and fictional places do not belong to me; I am merely borrowing them for playtime before (respectfully) putting them back. Thank you, JKR, for allowing such things to happen.

**Pairings/Main Characters** Hermione Granger and Severus Snape, the other Severus Snape. A cast of other canon characters and couple of OFCs as well.

**Warnings:** This story is rated NC-17/MA, and it is not suitable for children under age 18. It is Alternate Universe, and includes strong language, lemons (graphic sex), violence and mention of violence/torture, unresolved sexual tension, and major character death.

**Thank You:** To the village that has raised this baby over the course of several chapters: Roo, Tom Without, Allee, Lauren, Nathaniel Cardeau and ThornedHuntress. Additional thanks to my current amazing "Team Tyche," who have listened to me bounce ideas and have cleaned up my writing, making this story so, so much more than it would have been otherwise: Dragoon811, BSC_AG, Adelaide Archer and Stgulik.

A thousand further thank yous to the extremely talented SusanMarieR, who created the official banner and cover art for this piece.

* * *

><p><strong>SEVERUS, REDUX<strong>_**  
><strong>_**By: TycheSong**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter One:<strong> __(In which Severus Snape creates an odd new potion, and it doesn't work the way he thought it would)_  
><em>

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, 19 May 1976, 11:47 PM_

Severus Tobias Snape was not handsome at sixteen, or even marginally good looking. He was too tall, too bony, too pale, too greasy, too intense, too edgy, too everything. He was well aware of it, and sometimes it bothered him, though he resolutely told himself that it didn't. He preferred to believe he was above caring about such things. People should respect him and wish to be near him because he was intelligent, because he was powerful, because he could understand and influence things they had not bothered dreaming of, not because he was handsome. If they didn't, then they were not the sort of people he cared to be friends with anyway.

Except...sometimes, when he saw how his classmates hung onto every word that came out of the undeniably handsome Lucius Malfoy, when they removed themselves out of the way of Sirius Black as he walked down the hall, when Lily, even _Lily_ who couldn't _stand_ James Potter still looked at him out of the corner of her eyes when she thought nobody was watching...sometimes, he couldn't help but wish he were a little less ugly.

He had begged. He had made a fool out of himself to the point where the whole school was laughing, and even the housemates who could stand him held him in contempt. Lily had been adamant in her refusal to continue even their friendship. It was hardly fair, considering his situation. In Slytherin House, you were either god or minion. There really wasn't an in-between. He was lucky, the uncontested Lord of Slytherin House had taken him under his wing as a first year, and that protection had extended through later years. The rest of the school may view him as a laughing stock, but he didn't live with _them,_ did he? It was a relatively small price to pay in order to be treated with respect in his House.

With that respect came the responsibility to live according to the views and ideals of his House. Purity, Power, No Compromise. It wasn't as if it was even wrong, really. His father was proof enough of that. Sirius Black might be a complete dick, but his brother Regulus was a decent sort of chap, and his cousins...there could be no more perfect example of _why_ pureblooded families should stay that way than the Black sisters.

They were beautiful, elegant, regal, powerful and well-mannered. Bellatrix was only nine years his senior, followed by Andromeda at seven and Narcissa at five. All three were goddesses of Slytherin Perfection. Narcissa had even spoken to him, upon occasion. She was Lucius' fiancée, and Slytherin House took the responsibility of its sponsorships and mentorships _very_ seriously.

Currently, his mentor was attempting to finagle a place for him in the inner circle of _his_ Lord. Lord Voldemort was allegedly everything that Slytherin House stood for, if one were to trust Lucius Malfoy. Severus did; there was no one in whom he had more faith. Lucius had seen the potential, the greatness, the resilience in the ugly, skinny child, and for that Severus would believe and give him anything. According to him, Lord Voldemort was powerful, charismatic, and a beacon of conservative thinking in an increasingly backward world. So far, no invitations had been extended to his inner council to those who were not of pure blood.

Severus fully intended to be the first. He had already publicly denounced and disowned both of his parents in the Slytherin common room under oath. It hadn't been hard to do since one was a drunken, abusive Muggle, the other a broken and cowardly witch who pretended she wasn't, and both were dead.

_"You need to prove your worth, Severus. The Lord Voldemort will not grant you access to his closest and best on my word alone, though it helps that I sponsor you. You must show him your power, your worth. I know it's in you, Severus, you just need to give it free rein."_ Lucius never called him "Sev," or "Sevy" like Lily. Only Severus, which he said sounded more powerful and commanded respect.

So, here he stood, bent over a cauldron as he often was. Lord Voldemort had requested that Severus present him with a powerful potion as a tribute offering. Severus had a few ideas, of course, but he was confident about this one. It had taken him months to get to this point, months when it would have taken anyone else years, if they could have accomplished it at all.

Anyone could go back in time. Evan Rosier had explained Time-Turners, and Giselle Dolohov had even recited the little poem inscribed on them:

_"I mark the hours, every one  
>Nor have I yet outrun the sun<br>My use and value unto you  
>Is gauged by what you have to do."<em>

It was telling, that little poem. It made it more than clear that they could only swivel time backward. _"Nor have I yet outrun the sun..."_ How much worth would he be if he could give Lord Voldemort the power of the future? He would be able to anticipate and influence the political climates, the investing world would be so much as his pet, and no battle or manoeuvre his enemies had could ever surprise him or fail to be defeated. Surely such a presentation would be worthy of not only a place in his inner circle, but even in a position of power.

No one would ever call him "Snivellus" or dare laugh at him again. Even Lily would have to be impressed by his accomplishment, and he would be able to magnanimously offer to keep her safe, to put her under his protection once Lord Voldemort was firmly in power. After she apologized for being a heartless bitch, of course. For misunderstanding how amazing he really was.

He let his mind drift into a pleasant fantasy where Lily, lovely red hair tumbling, big green eyes wet with tears, babbled her remorse for not forgiving his lapse in temper, apologising for not understanding that he'd had an image to maintain, and swearing her undying gratitude to him. She would peek up at him under those long lashes, the way she pretended not to look at that shirty wanker James Potter.

Abruptly, he realised he was stirring a little more forcefully than he should, practically sloshing his creation outside his Standard Size 2, and forced himself to moderate his pace. Time enough for that later. He'd seen it, in the mirror, after all. Sirius Black, James Potter, Peter Pettigrew and Remus Lupin stood in chains before Lord Voldemort for being blood traitors and general idiots, while Lily sat by his side, watching approvingly, indisputably his.

He would drape her in emeralds when it happened, he fantasised, when he was powerful and a favourite of the Lord's with mountains of Galleons at his disposal like Lucius Malfoy. Slytherin green emeralds chased in silver that matched her jewel-green eyes. Gold was too warm a colour for her fair skin, anyway. And even she admitted that red went horribly with her hair as opposed to green or blue.

Severus sat back from his cauldron for a moment and studied the philter inside. It was complete. Ten long months of research and experimentation had come to this. He knew it wouldn't fail this time; he could feel it in his bones. If it did...if it failed, then forward motion in time just simply wasn't possible. At that point, he really had no more time to waste trying it again; it would be better to move on to something that would prolong life, or make one impervious to all poisons or something along those lines. Less to be gained, but surely Lord Voldemort would be pleased by a potion that made assassination attempts near-impossible.

He glanced at his arithmantic equations, scribbled on bit of parchment near his work, and carefully measured a small amount of the midnight-blue liquid into a cup. Twenty minutes. He would send himself forward twenty minutes as a test. If everything went according to his plan, he would be able to present the philter and the appropriate arithmantic calculations to Lord Voldemort at his official introduction next month. He would be the youngest Death Eater Pledge and only half-blood accepted. He knew he would.

He met his eyes in the large mirror across the deserted dungeon classroom he had been secretly brewing in. His image smirked triumphantly, toasted himself, and drank the measured liquid in one gulp, then the scene that had been replaying before—the Gryffindor berks in chains, Lily smiling up at him in emeralds and thanking him for his forgiveness of her ill-treatment—started over, replaying. Severus smirked back, and quaffed his own cup.

His vision tunnelled, went foggy and glassy in turns at the edges, and faded.

It came back slowly, with negative blotches of light tampering with his vision. It was as if he had been staring at bright light for too long. He blinked rapidly several times, trying to clear his vision, gripping the table edge to keep himself steady. The world slowly righted itself, and he glanced about.

Everything was the same, of course. He had chosen his little hidey-hole of an abandoned classroom with care. Twenty minutes would certainly not have changed it if no one had found him yet after ten months. He reached into his robe's pocket, and glanced at the battered pocket-watch he had dropped in there: 12:17 in the morning. Just a minute or so after he had drank the potion. The real test was if it was twenty minutes behind the elegant one he had borrowed from Lucius still sitting by the cauldron on the table. He staggered over to it, satisfactorily noting how well the potion seemed to have maintained its consistency after twenty minutes. That was good. Certainly it had been twenty minutes; he could feel that he was different, the world was different around him. Something must have changed.

The pocket watch on the table damningly read 12:17, also. Severus felt his face alter into a snarl. There had to be a mistake. It _had_ to have worked! Except, clearly it hadn't. Yelling an obscenity, Severus swept the glass beakers and bowls off the table with an only vaguely satisfying sounding crash. In a fit of temper, the cauldron followed, its useless contents spilling all over the dusty, dirty floor. A sharp word with his wand, and his notes ignited with a loud crack.

His mood black, Severus scooped up Lucius' pocket watch and he swept from the room.

* * *

><p><em>Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, 19 May 1996, 12:17 AM<em>

His vision tunneled, went foggy and glassy in turns at the edges, and faded.

It came back slowly, with negative blotches of light tampering with his vision. It was as if he had been staring at bright light for too long. He blinked rapidly several times, trying to clear his vision, gripping the table edge to keep himself steady. The world slowly righted itself, and he glanced about.

The room was completely deserted. His table was still there, but that was the only thing still the same. Lucius' pocket watch, his cauldron, his supplies, even the mirror that had been there for more than ten months had somehow, in the last twenty minutes, been removed, along with everyone else.

There was no sign of the removal, no scratch marks or footprints in the light layer of dust on the floor, no sound, the door was still firmly closed and locked. In fact...Severus stared at the floor again, a cold feeling sweeping over him. Had his arithmancy calculations been off? Surely not. He was not a top student at Arithmancy, not like Lily or Giselle, but he was confident in his abilities. Yet...there was no way all of his things had been removed in a mere twenty-minute absence. Perhaps he was wrong, and one could only go back in time? Maybe he had blown himself backward rather than forward, and a great deal further than he thought, since his arithmancy was meant to be towards a _forward_ moving potion. Or perhaps he had put a decimal in the wrong place...

Severus' heart froze. What if he was accidentally twenty _hours_ in the future? What if he had missed an entire _day_ of classes? How in the world was he going to explain that?

Severus departed the room hurriedly, setting off down the deserted hall at a jog. He obviously needed to find Professor Slughorn right away, and make sure his Head of House was on his side before contemplating anything else. He turned a corner around a staircase, and came face to back with that _arse_ James Potter, with that damned grey cloak he was always carrying around tucked over one arm.

Well, at least he knew however much time he had lost, either backward or forward, it wasn't _that_ much. Severus scowled at his nemesis, then smirked and slashed his wand at him vindictively. James _howled_ very satisfactorily indeed, cussing like a sailor, and clutching his thigh. A nasty burn mark was there under his clothes, Severus knew. Not unlike the one James had given him last week. _Try riding your broomstick and catching the Snitch now, Potter!_

Leaving the wounded boy in the hall, Severus ran to the Head of Slytherin's quarters. Slughorn would still be awake, he knew. He skidded to a halt just outside the door when it flung open, surprising him enough that he nearly fell backward.

The man that stood there was oddly familiar, but no one Severus knew. His clothes were fine wool, excellently tailored, and stark, unrelieved black. Not unlike the sort of clothes Severus had envisioned for himself in his imagination. This man was also tall, thin, fair skinned and possessed of oily dark hair. But there the similarities between himself and Severus ended.

He was _old,_ for one thing, at least forty, with hard lines bracketing his mouth and pinching his eyes. And while he was thin, he wasn't the same sort of gaunt bonyness that Severus was. He also _radiated_ danger and power. Severus was dangerous, and powerful, but not like this. This man was the sort who could easily command obedience from even Lucius Malfoy. The man's black eyes widened in shock for a moment before narrowing in apparent hatred for Severus.

"What is this?" His voice was a low, autocratic snarl. "Some sort of joke, Potter?" He reached forward, striking like an attacking snake, gripping Severus' upper arm painfully and hauling him into the room he had just been about to exit.

Severus only barely had time to think incredulously. _Did he really just confuse_ me _with_ James Potter_?!_

* * *

><p><em>AN: I think poor Severus is about to give himself a heart attack...hee hee hee_

_On a more serious note, this is just a little plot bunny that's been bouncing about my brain for a couple of weeks that I thought I would throw out there and see if there is any interest for me to continue it. If not, no harm, no foul. It was a fun idea to play with. If there is enough interest in what happens next, I'll continue it. As always, I would love to hear your opinions, either way. Reviews feed the muse, or are the ammunition to shoot an awful idea dead. Keep that in mind, please!_


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary:** A time travel story. When fifth-year Severus Snape tries to create a forward time-travelling philter to prove his worthiness to Lord Voldemort, he is disappointed to find that his creation is worthless. Or is it?

**Disclaimer:** All recognizable characters and fictional places do not belong to me; I am merely borrowing them for playtime before (respectfully) putting them back. Thank you, JKR, for allowing such things to happen.

**Pairings/Main Characters** Hermione Granger and Severus Snape, the other Severus Snape. A cast of other canon characters and couple of OFCs as well.

**Warnings:** This story is rated NC-17/MA, and it is not suitable for children under age 18. It is Alternate Universe, and includes strong language, lemons (graphic sex), violence and mention of violence/torture, unresolved sexual tension, and major character death.

**Thank You:** To the village that has raised this baby over the course of several chapters: Roo, Tom Without, Allee, Lauren, Nathaniel Cardeau and ThornedHuntress. Additional thanks to my current amazing "Team Tyche," who have listened to me bounce ideas and have cleaned up my writing, making this story so, so much more than it would have been otherwise: Dragoon811, BSC_AG, AdelaideArcher and Stgulik.

A thousand further thank yous to the extremely talented SusanMarieR, who created the official banner and cover art for this piece.

* * *

><p><strong>SEVERUS, REDUX<strong>_**  
><strong>_**By: TycheSong**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Two: <strong>_(In which the Elder and Younger Severus Snape have a conversation between themselves, and then with Albus Dumbledore.)_

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, 19 May 1996, 12:25 AM_

The door slammed, and Severus was hauled by the man's pinching grip to be plunked unceremoniously into one of the chairs in front of the Head of Slytherin's desk. Severus briefly wondered when Professor Slughorn had removed his beloved pictures to make way for more books on the shelves in the room. It seemed out of character in the extreme. In fact, now that Severus was thinking about it, _all_ of the professor's personal effects were missing. There was only a week and a half left to the school term; perhaps he had left early, and this man was taking his classes?

Or perhaps he had been completely off in his calculations and it was already summer hols. No, Potter was still here. If it were the summer already, Potter would have gone back home to Potter Place, in Godric's Hollow, and taken Black with him, as they had last year. Professor Slughorn must have just left early for some reason.

Severus shifted in his chair. The man who had deposited him there whirled about furiously, his robes flaring dramatically, and glared at him with more venom than Severus thought was fair, considering they'd never met before.

"You are out after curfew. Where are your sidekicks, Potter?"

Severus lifted his chin mutinously. "Look, I don't know if you've _met_ Potter, but he doesn't look a thing like me, and in general I do my damnedest _not_ to be near him or his idiot friends."

_"Do not play games with me!"_ The man actually roared it at him. "You are the only one who has seen my memories of that time period, and even if you were not, no other student would have the insolence or temerity to do something like this! I know you stole from my stores a few years ago, I _know_ Granger was experimenting with Polyjuice then and glamours now, do not _dare_ try to tell me you're _not Potter!"_

Severus was confused, and masked it with icy disdain. "I do not know you. I've never heard of anyone named Granger, and if I were Potter I would probably be heading for the Hospital Wing right now and whining about the ouchie on my leg."

The man stared at him, arrested, for a moment. "You are actually trying to tell me that you are Severus Snape?" Severus could feel the man carefully trying to probe his mind undetected and snapped his Occlumency shields up with an insulting sneer. No one ever expected him to be as good an Occlumens as he was.

"I am."

The man studied him carefully, slowly walking around the chair he was seated in. "How old are you?"

Severus hesitated. He didn't know this man, after all. Should he really be talking to him? The man had seemed sceptical that he was really who he said he was, and he knew about Potter, and seemed to agree with the opinion that he was a git. And he was powerful. Superbly, richly, darkly powerful. It was more likely he was an ally than foe. For a brief, wild moment, he wondered if this was the Lord Voldemort, checking up on him, before his logic returned. Lord Voldemort would have better things to do than check up on a half-blood student petitioning for the chance to be a Pledge.

"Sixteen." He answered finally.

"It's been what, two months or so since you called Lily Evans a Mudblood?" The question was probing, as if he were trying to determine certainty.

Severus felt colour stain his cheeks and nodded stiffly.

The older man was silent for a while, just staring at him. That piercing look made Severus want to babble out everything he wanted to know, and the man wasn't even attempting to use Legilimency. Severus clenched his teeth together and glared balefully back.

"In the beginning of the year, you found an unused classroom to conduct your 'experiments' in. In that room was a large mirror. _Not_ an ordinary one. Tell me what you saw in it." The man's eyes narrowed and he clarified. "The _first_ time."

Severus hadn't told anyone about that mirror before, much less that it had given him two visions of the future. This man was oddly like Headmaster Dumbledore, in that he just knew things he shouldn't, without using Legilimency. Severus bared his teeth at the man in a parody of a smile. "I don't have to tell you anything!"

The man's gaze turned into an unpleasant mixture of mocking and disdain. "Allow me to tell _you_ something then. You have a scar on your right arm from a broken bone when you were seven. Your father backhanded your mother so hard she fell into you and you cracked your arm against the table. The bone actually stuck through the skin. Your father had snapped your mother's wand years earlier, and she was too afraid of him to take you to St. Mungo's.

"So they took you to the Muggle hospital. Your doctor had funny hair but a kind smile. His name was Dr. Marot. You had to lie and say you sustained your injury by jumping inappropriately off a swing-set, and have your arm in a cast for two months. When you were sorted into Slytherin, you told your housemates that the scar was from a duel you got into the preceding summer because you didn't want to look weak; you knew enough jinxes already at twelve from your mother's old course books that they believed you."

Severus felt a chill tingle down his spine. "How...how do you know that?"

"Tell me what you saw in the mirror the first time, Severus, and I will tell you." It was said oddly gently.

"I...I saw her. Lily. Evans, I mean." He lifted his chin, determined not to slip and call her by her first name again, not in front of this man. Any sign of weakness could spell potential disaster. "She was letting me fuck her."

A pained look flashed through the man's eyes, so fast Severus nearly missed it. "She was making love to you, you mean. Her eyes like stars. You'd just been married; she had publicly chosen you over anyone else." His voice was slightly wistful.

"How do you know these things?" Severus stood, glaring menacingly. "And don't talk about her that way, old man. That's bloody perverted of you. She's sixteen. You're like forty-something."

The man's eyes flashed fire. "Thirty-six." He snapped. "Do you know what you've done, you little idiot, messing around with time travel the way you have the last ten months?"

_"Stop digging around in my head!"_ Severus shouted, now convinced that the man was using Legilimency. He had to be; he was just so subtle that Severus couldn't feel it.

"I am not _'digging around'_ in your head, Snape," the man snapped irritably. He was silent for a long moment, studying Severus carefully. "Do you know what today's date is?"

Severus opened his mouth to answer, and then paused, closing it again and shaking his head sullenly. The man sneered, his upper lip curling, and he continued. "Today's date, at least for the last half hour, is the twentieth of May, 1996."

"Nineteen ninety..."

"Yes. Nineteen _ninety_-six. Congratulations," The older man's sarcasm was heavy. "You've managed to vault yourself twenty years into the future."

"Then you're...?"

"Oh, yes. I'm you." The man sounded tired, suddenly, careworn. "Or at least, I used to be, once upon a time. A bloody fool." He arched a cynical eyebrow. "Not quite what you expected, is it?"

Severus took in the vision of the powerful, ugly older man dressed in _teaching robes_ of all things, and shook his head. "You're lying." Severus narrowed his eyes cunningly. "I just saw Potter in the hall. He didn't look any older at all."

"Did you? You likely saw _Harry_ Potter, not James Potter. You would know, perhaps, why Potter might be 'heading for the Hospital Wing right now whining about an ouchie?'"

Severus carefully kept his face expressionless, and shrugged with exaggerated innocence. "He was limping."

The man's lips twisted in a small, unpleasant smile. "Fifteen points from Gryffindor, for being out after curfew, Potter," he murmured.

"You're _really_ me?" Severus asked again, unable to wrap his mind around the fact that this man was himself.

His older self looked irritated. "You require more proof? You had a stuffed rabbit as a child named Fiver after the _Watership Down_ character. You think no woman could ever be as lovely as Lily Evans, but if you had to have a second choice you would pick Giselle Dolohov. You prefer honey in your Earl Grey to lemon but take it with both because Narcissa Malfoy—Black—does and claims it's the only proper way to drink Earl Grey. You're pants at arithmancy, and will never admit it out loud until just now."

Severus took a shaky breath, glad he was sitting down. "Alright, twenty years in the future." He cleared his throat, and gave the man an unsettled look. "So. What do I do now? Just hang about until you can get your hands on a Time Turner to send me back? Or start working on a reverse potion to do the same thing? Under his breath, he muttered, I should look up Muggle lottery numbers."

"Neither!" The man glowered, and even knowing it was only himself, Severus couldn't help but feel intimidated. "Don't you _understand,_ idiot? I'm here, and I had no idea until you showed up that the potion had succeeded!"

Severus suddenly realised what that meant. "To go forward, the potion sends a...a...copy...for lack of better word. If I go back there will be two of us, even as there is now."

"Precisely, and I cannot-_will_ not-let that happen." It was said with a harsh finality that left Severus in no doubt that the man meant it.

Incredulous, Severus burst, "Why? Think of how much we would be able to do with two of us!"

_"Exactly!"_ His older self actually yelled it. "You have no idea the extent of the damage I caused at your age. I very nearly destroyed _everything_ that had ever mattered to me and or ever could. With two of me, we'd be lucky if the world remained intact long enough for us to ever _be_ thirty-six."

"So what, I'm just _stuck_ here?"

"It would appear so."

"I can't be just _stuck_ here! I have my formal introduction in a month!"

"I've already handled that, as you can see." The older man's voice was cold, uncaring.

"But the potion _works."_

"Yes, and thank Merlin I destroyed it and my notes. Imagine, the Dark Lord having control of time and creating duplicates of himself." He directed a hard look at Severus and said with deadly seriousness, "I would kill both of us before allowing that."

Shocked, Severus stared at him, working his mouth as he attempted to come up with an appropriate response. Finally, he said weakly, "So what, I just sit here, and watch you live my life?"

_"MY_ life," the man grumbled. "I do not remember being this insufferable at that age." The elder Severus took a deep breath, and pinched the bridge of his nose. Severus recognised the gesture. He always did that when he had an awful headache coming on. Or brain freeze from too much ice cream after supper. Somehow he didn't think his elder version had recently consumed a surplus of ice cream. "You are simply going to have to create a new life for yourself here," he finally continued, calmly.

"And just how am I supposed to do that? I have no home, money, or even my own name. You have it all."

The man nodded thoughtfully. "It can be arranged. I also have some very resourceful friends and allies."

Severus looked at him warily. His words suggested a position of influence and power, far beyond that of the simple teacher his robes suggested. His antipathy towards his own history and Lord Voldemort just as clearly suggested that something had gone horribly wrong, however. Carefully, Severus asked, "You're on the Lord Voldemort's council then? You're a Death Eater?"

His elder self winced, and made an aborted movement with his left fist, clenching it slightly. "The Dark Lord. Or even better, call him 'You-Know-Who' or 'He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.'"

Severus regarded him with amused incredulity. "Really? 'You-Know-Who?' It sounds like we're trying to keep a secret from a four-year-old."

"Just do it." His elder self resumed his pacing, his robe fluttering in dramatic sweeps. "Obviously, we're going to have to have a talk with Albus Dumbledore."

Severus shrugged scornfully. "That biased geriatric? How in the world is _he_ supposed to help me?"

"Do _not_ insult him. He is more aware than you realise, but he is in the middle of events greater than you can fathom right now. He has to make difficult decisions. Come."

"I'm just tired of him always making his so-called 'difficult decisions' against my favour."

"Trust me, that didn't change any as you got older. Perhaps this new life will give you the possibility of that actually happening." The elder Severus stared at him a moment, then rapped him on the head smartly with his wand, ignoring the muttered _Ow!,_ and Disillusioned him. Nodding once in apparent satisfaction, he gripped him by the shoulder of his robes, and propelled him out of the room briskly, toward the front entrance of Hogwarts.

"Could you _stop_ man-handling me?"

"Don't be ridiculous." His elder self smirked. "One can't man-handle one's self. Now be quiet."

* * *

><p><em>Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, 19 May 1996, 12:46 AM<em>

Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, suited the name of it's street rather admirably. The house, probably quite lovely at one time, was eerie and had an unsettlingly dark ambiance, even with the fire crackling strongly. It was not the sort of place Severus would have imagined the Headmaster staying at, particularly while school was still in session.

The elderly wizard only gave him a long, measured look when he asked, however, and focused his attention on his elder self. The dark wizard sneered, and banished to a nearby chair with an exasperated, "Sit down, shut up, and don't touch anything." Sullenly, Severus complied, and listened as his older self explained the situation to Professor Dumbledore.

"When I was fifteen, I experimented for a while with the possibility of time travel to the future. At the time, of course, the philter did not appear to work, as evidenced by my being here today. It seems, however, that I did achieve my goal, after a fashion. I sent a _copy_ of myself, for lack of better term", here he gave his younger version a sour look, "to the future."

Dumbledore glanced at Severus, this time with more interest. "Well, then. This is wonderful news!" The Headmaster beamed, and Severus couldn't help but wonder if the old man had finally lost what few marbles he'd had twenty years previously.

His elder self apparently thought the same, and asked acidly, "Wonderful, Headmaster?"

The dotty old man smiled eagerly. "Of course, Severus! You were one of the most intelligent, talented, and dedicated young men of your generation, why wouldn't I be pleased to have two of you, for however long it lasts?"

He made a face. "He—I—was creating that philter to prove my worth to the Dark Lord. He doesn't have the same motivations that I do, or the experiences that I have had to have had to enlighten him.

The Headmaster studied Severus thoughtfully. "That is rather easily remedied, Severus."

Severus shifted uncomfortably. "Sorry," he muttered. "Which Severus are you talking to? You're looking at me, but..."

The headmaster's eyebrows shot up, and he chuckled. "Quite right. How's this, then? I shall refer to the adult Severus Snape as Professor Snape, and you as simply Severus for the time being."

Professor Snape snarled. "This has disaster written all over it. How are we going to explain this? To the Order, to the school, to _him?_ As for 'easily remedied,' just what, precisely, were you planning on telling him? We don't even know if this...apparition is permanent."

Professor Dumbledore gave Professor Snape a disapproving look. "I imagine that we are going to explain this by simply saying that Severus is a relative of yours. A son, perhaps, or a cousin. There is only a week and a half of school left, so we only need to keep him a secret that long; he can stay here through the summer, getting caught up in current events and deciding what his role will be, and start school again next autumn."

"Are you expecting to be back at Hogwarts next year, then?" Professor Snape asked solicitously. He shook his head scornfully, "Even if that is the case, how is he supposed to be my relative? It's fairly standard knowledge among my peers that I have no relatives, and if _he_ were to find out that I had hidden a child from him...not even you would be able to save me, Albus."

"Perhaps he is the son of an illegitimate brother or sister?"

"What, it's not enough that I'm a half-blood, you're going to make me on the wrong side of the blanket, too?" Severus cut in, objecting. It was _his_ life they were deciding without him, after all.

Dumbledore gave him a serious look. "There is absolutely nothing wrong with being a half-blood, Severus. The most powerful wizards and witches of the last century have been half-blooded or Muggleborn, yourself and Lord Voldemort included."

Severus gave a start. "Lord V-"

Professor Snape's throat cleared harshly.

Severus gave him an aggravated look. _"'You-Know-Who'_ is a half-blood?"

"Yes, Severus. He is." He gave Severus a chiding look, "It is unfortunate that you consider it an issue, with so much of import at stake. However, if it bothers you so much, we could always say that your mother's lover was another wizard. You would still be the progeny of an illegitimate son, but it would make your status that of a pureblood."

Professor Snape's lip curled identically to Severus's. "My mother would never have cheated on my father,"

"She was too afraid of him to do something like that." Severus completed the thought.

"But no one else knows that." The Headmaster said mildly.

"Fine, whatever. I start school in September. I'm going to need a different name, and clothes and supplies. I don't have anything with me except what I'm wearing now, and my wand."

The headmaster waved a belligerent hand. "That will not be an issue. There is also a matter of your house, Severus."

Both Severus and Professor Snape looked at the Headmaster sharply.

"My house?" Professor said softly, dangerously. "What about it?"

"I'm not talking about Spinner's End, Sev-Professor. I mean his school house."

"I am a Slytherin. I've always been, and I always will." The professor's voice was dangerous. Clearly he knew what the Headmaster was suggesting, and he just as clearly was Not Pleased. Severus crossed his arms and tilted his own chin defiantly. He was _proud_ of his house.

"Professor," Dumbledore said gently, reasonably. "Think about who we are talking about. You've just told me that he in the process of creating a dangerous potion in order to prove himself worthy enough to join the Death Eaters. Do you really want to put him—yourself at sixteen—back into the direct social influence and mentality of Malfoy and Zabini and Nott? Do you really think it's wise to surround him with loyal supporters of your Dark Lord without explaining the truth to him? He does not have the same experience with Occlumency that you have, after all, so we would not be able to risk the truth inside Slytherin house.

"This is our chance to place him in an environment more conducive to our cause, and blame it on the Sorting Hat. Surely the Dark Lord would have to understand you had no control over his sorting, and if he grew up apart from you, it explains your lack of direct control over his actions."

"I am _not_ going to be or let you make him one of your pet Gryffindors! I won't allow it!" The Professor seethed, and Severus wholeheartedly agreed. Certain lines just couldn't be crossed, after all.

"No, I doubt anyone would view that with anything but scepticism, more is the pity. But perhaps Ravenclaw? You cannot deny that you are incredibly intelligent. You would fit in nicely there, have a chance to flourish without being sorted automatically into one extreme environs of this war or the other."

Professor Snape pursed his lips in clear disapproval, and Severus found himself hoping that the older man would refuse. Slytherin was his home, his rightful place. After a long, icy silence, however, his older self nodded reluctantly. "Ravenclaw, then."

The Headmaster beamed. "Excellent!" He cocked his head to the side, and then beamed again. "Ah, this is wonderful. I'm certain you'll appreciate how this is all falling into place neatly, Professor." He turned and casually addressed Severus, "Here comes the _perfect_ person to help you in your new transition to 1996."

He raised his voice, looking expectantly at the door. "Miss Granger, please do come in!"

Severus could only glance at himself in surprise when Professor Snape made a painful choking noise.

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><p><em>AN: Thank you all so much for your reviews! You kept the story alive, and your opinions mean the world to me! I hope those of you who are reading this story continue to review, or offer con-crit if the story needs it._

_You must all remember to thank my amazing Betas, BSC_AG, Allee, and Lauren. I sent this to them on Sunday morning, with the belief that it would be post worthy on either Tuesday or Wednesday. They are Goddesses among Betas, however, and it is due to their incredible super-speedy turn-around time despite having families, jobs, strict tv show schedules to maintain and general life that you get to have this chapter early!_


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary:** A time travel story. When fifth-year Severus Snape tries to create a forward time-travelling philter to prove his worthiness to Lord Voldemort, he is disappointed to find that his creation is worthless. Or is it?

**Disclaimer:** All recognizable characters and fictional places do not belong to me; I am merely borrowing them for playtime before (respectfully) putting them back. Thank you, JKR, for allowing such things to happen.

**Pairings/Main Characters** Hermione Granger and Severus Snape, the other Severus Snape. A cast of other canon characters and couple of OFCs as well.

**Warnings:** This story is rated NC-17/MA, and it is not suitable for children under age 18. It is Alternate Universe, and includes strong language, lemons (graphic sex), violence and mention of violence/torture, unresolved sexual tension, and major character death.

**Thank You:** To the village that has raised this baby over the course of several chapters: Roo, Tom Without, Allee, Lauren, Nathaniel Cardeau and ThornedHuntress. Additional thanks to my current amazing "Team Tyche," who have listened to me bounce ideas and have cleaned up my writing, making this story so, so much more than it would have been otherwise: Dragoon811, BSC_AG, AdelaideArcher and Stgulik.

A thousand further thank yous to the extremely talented SusanMarieR, who created the official banner and cover art for this piece.

* * *

><p><strong>SEVERUS, REDUX<strong>_**  
><strong>_**By: TycheSong**

* * *

><p><strong>C<strong>**hapter Three: **_(In which Harry has his wounds seen to, and Hermione pays a visit to Dumbledore in hiding.)_

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, 20 May 1996, 12:33 AM_

Hermione was drowsily dreaming over her Transfiguration notes when Harry stumbled into the common room, swearing and limping. The upset was enough that she snapped to immediate attention, rising, wand in hand.

"Harry! What happened?"

"I have proof that Snape is a Death Eater!"

"Professor Snape. Proof? You're _sure?_ Professor Dumbledore has always seemed very certain of his loyalty, Harry."

"You remember second year? With Ginny and Tom Riddle's Diary?"

Hermione gave Harry an impatient look. "Of course I do, Harry."

"I think Snape might have one, too. A diary, I mean. Or maybe something else. But I _saw_ him tonight. Not like he is now, but like he was in the pensieve—our age. He _hexed_ me."

Hermione motioned for him to sit. "Harry, are you _sure_ it was Professor Snape? It could have been a glamour. I've been experimenting with them recently, and really, it's amazing what you can do with a glamour properly applied."

"I'm telling you, Hermione, it was _him._ The only ones who would know what he looked like at that age are the professors. None of them would hex me!"

Hermione frowned, and shook her head. "But why would the memory suddenly resurface now?"

"Who knows? Maybe Memory-Snape is back to kill Umbridge."

"Harry, you know Umbridge is either working for Voldemort or someone else who is. Professor Snape can hardly be trying to kill Umbridge as your proof that he's working for Voldemort."

"I'm telling you, he's using Dark magic!" Harry all but shouted it, and Hermione winced, glancing around the deserted common room in warning.

"Harry, people are sleeping." Changing tactics, Hermione motioned with her wand at her friend's obviously injured leg. "Let me see."

Harry turned beetroot red, and stuttered, "It's on my thigh. I really don't think—"

"Harry, it's me or Madam Pomfrey. In which case, you can explain how you got this and why you were out after curfew and accept whatever detention Umbridge decides to give you when Madam Pomfrey has to report it. It's not as if you have to take your pants off, right?"

Harry grumbled, still red, but he started unfastening his trousers. On seeing the burn, Hermione sighed. It was long and ugly, but fortunately not very deep. It skidded from the top of his outer thigh across the muscle to just above his knee, the long welt raising a few blisters, but nothing too damaging. It did look incredibly painful, however.

"Not too bad," Hermione murmured reassuringly. "I'll just get you some Burn-Soothe, and a Tincture of Pain Relief." She stood, and headed toward the common room supply cupboard. The seventh year Potions students traditionally were in charge with keeping it stocked with the more common, basic potions. She wasn't sure when that particular tradition had started; apparently the Gryffindors had a long history of obtaining mild-to-moderate injuries that they would prefer not to report to the school Medi-Witch.

"Hermione, what're we going to _do_ about Snape?"

"Professor Snape." Hermione corrected yet again. "I really think you should write to Professor Dumbledore about it, if you're that concerned. I bet if you addressed it to Snuffles, he could get it passed on."

"That's been your solution for everything this year! Hermione, he doesn't _care!_ He's been ignoring me all year long!"

Hermione retorted fiercely, "I still think you should have told him about what Umbridge is doing to you in detention! That goes beyond even corporal punishment, Harry, and you know it. It's abuse; it's _torture_ of a _minor_. Because you let her get away with it, how many more kids was she able to use it on? Every single time it happens it will be your fault for not speaking up, and mine for just standing by. I'm _neglecting_ students that I've been charged to protect as a prefect, Harry, based on your stubbornness." Hermione slammed the cupboard door open.

"I just...I can't let her think she's won, 'Mione. If I had snitched, she would've won. There are far more important things going on right now to worry about. Snape is using Dark magic, I know it, and the Ministry has something Voldemort wants! What if they're related, somehow? We _have_ to stop him. I _need_ to find out what's behind that door in my dreams!"

Hermione paused in the cupboard, the Burn-Soothe and Tincture of Pain Relief already in hand, and glanced over her shoulder. "That could very well be what Voldemort _wants_ you to think, Harry. He can't possibly be unaware of your connection, especially since you've used it to save Ron's dad."

"Or maybe he has just as much trouble keeping me out of his head as I do him!"

"You don't get to be the most powerful Dark wizard in the world without knowing how to Occlude properly, Harry." Hermione's frustration made her sharper than usual. "If you are seeing something from Voldemort's mind, it's because he either wants you to see it, or he doesn't think it matters if you see it or not. From what you said, whatever is behind that door is something that _matters_ to him. Ergo."

Harry turned from her and stared moodily into the fire. Hermione hesitated for a moment, and then, decision made, she added several drops of concentrated Dreamless Draught to the Tincture of Pain Relief. Harry obviously needed sleep. The sort that didn't have any dreams and that Legilimency couldn't penetrate. If he wasn't going to think logically or be reasonable, well, then, it fell to her. Really, she wasn't that surprised. It usually did fall to her to be the reasonable, clear-thinking one.

Swiftly she walked back to her best friend, refusing to allow herself to feel guilty for drugging him. She handed him the pain potion, and started dabbing the burn salve on his thigh liberally. His eyes were already half-mast when she finished tying off a bandage around it to keep the salve from smearing all over the place. "Come on, Harry, up you get. You need to either pull your trousers back up or take them and your shoes off, but either way it's time for bed."

"Tired..." Harry mumbled, fumbling with his waistband. "Gonna sleep out here."

"Okay, that's fine. Just make sure your trousers are on. We have young girls sleeping in this tower, and them coming down in the morning to find your trousers around your ankles is not something I can allow, even if some of them _want_ to see it."

"Too right." Harry mumbled, and managed to fasten his belt again.

"Go to sleep, Harry."

"Mmmmmmm."

He was out like a light. Hermione studied him a moment, and then conjured a blanket to drape over him. Whatever he had seen tonight, it was _something,_ she did believe that much. If Dumbledore didn't know already, he really should be told. If there was someone was wandering about Hogwarts grounds emulating students that shouldn't be, it was a real concern. After all, the history of such hidden characters-Peter Pettigrew, Sirius Black, Barty Crouch Jr-was not not precisely reassuring.

Hermione drummed her fingertips against a table for a moment, considering whether or not it was worth keeping one of her secrets, then with finality, stood. She generally took her time thinking out decisions, but once they were made, there was very little left to do but follow through. Reaching down, she snagged Harry's Invisibility Cloak, and throwing it on, exited the tower.

It was illegal to Apparate without a license. Illegal, and dangerous if one didn't know what one was doing. Not to mention difficult to practice as a student at Hogwarts, where Apparation was impossible except when the ban was lifted by the headmaster.

Hermione had been fascinated with the idea of Apparition and Disapparition since she had first read about it in _Hogwarts, A History_ as a first year. The ability to teleport had seemed, at the time, the most obvious benefit to being magical. Just before her third year she had actually bought books on the subject, a basic instruction guide usually only bothered with by learning students, and _Time/Space Magical Anomalies,_ one of the sixth year Magical Theory class textbook. The second book had been extremely interesting—if a bit difficult for her to get through—containing lengthy chapters on the matter as well as on spatial displacement enchantments and Time-Turners.

She hadn't worked up the nerve to actually attempt to Apparate until mid-way through her fifth year. It had just been too dangerous in her estimation—nightmares of slicing herself in half had deterred her when she might have usually pushed to try something above the generally accepted age level.

However, she had—purely by chance!—happened to come across the Apparation class for the older sixth and younger seventh year students. After two days of watching, she had decided to try. It hadn't looked _so_ very difficult. After wobbling dizzily and nearly landing on her arse several times, she had learnt to Apparate a full year ahead of her classmates.

Hermione grimaced to herself, and mentally amended that perhaps it was a bit less than a year, considering how badly she'd abused her Time-Turner. When she had approached Professor McGonagall in her third year, lamenting her lack of time for so many interesting classes, she had already known that there were precedents of Time-Turners being administered to students for exactly that purpose. It had been mentioned in a footnote of _Time/Space Magical Anomalies._

Between her double-and-triple booked classes, her private self-taught lessons on a variety of subjects, the massive amount of extra study hours she'd needed, the extra-curricular activities she had been inevitably dragged into by Harry and Ron, and the once or twice a week she'd either given herself more time to sleep when she needed it or accidentally slept in and needed to roll time back to be to class on time...well. She would not be overly shocked to find out she had added a good several months to her age. She had returned it at the end of June more out of a self-preservation instinct than anything else.

Hermione shook her head, and concentrated on her current task, slipping through the halls of Hogwarts unseen. Her inattention nearly had her tripping over a trick stair before she had caught herself. Once she showed up at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place tonight, Dumbledore would know she could Apparate illegally. He might already know-there wasn't much that escaped the Headmaster-but she'd been fairly careful to mask her illegal practicing in Hogsmeade, so close to so many other magic users.

Hermione stepped outside, and paused briefly in surprise. The air was far warmer than she expected for this time in the evening. _Or perhaps,_ she thought wryly, _it's my nerves._ She was about to break a rather extraordinary amount of rules, after all. Clutching Harry's cloak around her tightly, she ran down the hill to the front gates and slipped out. A deep breath to help focus her, and she turned on the spot with a satisfying _crack._

_Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, 20 May 1996, 1:11 AM_

Grimmauld Place looked much as it had in the summer, except even gloomier, if that were possible. The wards recognised her, and she was able to let herself in without much trouble. She removed the Cloak and folded it up carefully, placing it inside her beaded bag with another mental smile. The bag had been a result of her experimenting with the spatial displacement charms in _Time/Space Magical Anomalies._ It had turned out rather well, she thought. Certainly it had been useful at the Yule Ball.

A warm glowing light under the door to the drawing room on the first floor alerted her to where Sirius might be. With any luck, he would find her mis-adventure amusing and not explain to Professor Dumbledore precisely how she had gotten the information to him. Pursing her lips and preparing mentally preparing her excuses, she walked up to the door. She was just about to push it open when the salutation came from within.

"Miss Granger, _do_ come in!"

Caught, by Professor Dumbledore himself, no less. Chagrined, Hermione felt her stomach twist before and mentally shrugging. At least she could be certain he would get her message. Hermione opened the door and entered, and stopped short in shock. Eyes wide, Hermione babbled without thinking.

"Oh, Professor Snape, good evening, sir. I had wanted to speak to Professor Dumbledore about...well, _him_ but since _he's_ here already," she nodded at the young teenager who looked remarkably Snape-ish "then clearly the two of you already know and have everything well in hand. Very well, then. You should know Harry's scar has been hurting him again, and he keeps receiving dreams from You-Know-Who about the Department of Mysteries."

There was a stunned, awkward silence, and Hermione ducked her head. "I'll just get back to bed, now."

She turned to leave, and was halted by Professor Dumbledore's voice. "A moment please, Miss Granger."

She turned back again, her face flushed.

"You know who this young man is?"

Hermione glanced at Professor Snape and tilted her head back and forth in a response denoting uncertainty. "I have a few ideas, sir. According to Harry, he's well...except that I'm just not sure _how."_ Hermione stammered helplessly. "Is he really...I mean…" A sudden, horrifying thought occurred to her, and she cut herself off, eyes wide. "He hasn't run into _Snuffles_ yet, has he?"

The boy's mouth hung open slightly. "Who is _that?"_ He asked.

_"That,"_ Professor Snape answered, his voice dripping disapproval, "is the most insufferable, annoying creature you will _ever_ have the misfortune of meeting in your life."

Hermione frowned, offended, despite knowing better than to believe her Potions professor would harbour any good will towards her. "Professor, do you have to bias him before we're even properly introduced?" Hermione asked before she could stop herself.

Professor Snape arched an eyebrow at her and she wilted, stepping back a little self-consciously with a muttered apology. He waited a beat longer, and then said softly, "I have a keen self-preservation instinct, Miss Granger. It would be remiss of me _not_ to warn myself. One might even say it was cruel and unusual punishment."

"Mmmm. Something all the Hogwarts students are learning about this year, how nice." Hermione responded dryly. "Hello." She directed her gaze at the boy. "Just in case you decide to give me a chance despite all that, my name is Hermione Granger, Gryffindor, and I'm willing to be friends with a Slytherin if he is in return. You should know, though, I'm Muggle-born, so if that's going to be a problem I'd rather it was out in the open now." She smiled and extended a hand, trying not to show how nervous she was.

The boy seemed surprised, darting a look at her hand, then at her face, then back to her hand. An awkward moment passed before he took it, shaking briefly and letting go as if she were on fire. "Severus." He answered, studying her as if he were trying to gauge her sincerity. Or possibly sanity.

"Nice to meet you." She replied, then tilted her head in curiosity. "If you don't mind me asking, how did...how did you manage this?"

"Potions experience."

"Oh." Hermione nodded, floundering slightly, before offering, "I had one of those, once. Mine was...not favourable. Misinformation concerning one of the components, you see. Usually I'm quite good. You sent yourself _forward,_ in time? I didn't think that was possible."

He shrugged in response, but Hermione caught the faintest hint of pride in his eyes.

"You must be absolutely exceptional at Potions, then. Far better than I."

"Miss Granger, you _will stop_ trying to flatter me. There is serious business at hand." Professor Snape's voice was acid.

Hermione jumped with a slight squeak; she had forgotten her professor, momentarily. She turned, and attempting to regain her dignity, lifted her chin. "I'm not attempting to flatter you, sir. I was merely remarking that your...how old are you?" She directed the question at Severus.

"Sixteen," he answered, watching with undisguised interest.

"I was remarking, Professor, that your sixteen-year-old self is better at Potions than I. I would never be so silly as to say something like that to _you._ You have a _mastery_ in potions, and you are my instructor. It is already a given that _you're_ better at Potions than I am." Daringly, she waved a hand dismissively and continued, "If I were to try to flatter you I would remark instead on your high level of intelligence or your incredible magical power. These are not only true, but also points of pride for you that cannot typically be improved upon significantly with age; only refined." She turned away from the thunderous expression rapidly building on Professor Snape's face to address the boy, "I don't suppose you're in a better mood than he is, generally?"

"Miss Granger," Dumbledore interrupted, his eyes twinkling with suppressed mirth. "Perhaps you could explain how you knew of Severus' existence, and how you knew to come here?"

"I believe you mentioned _Potter_ earlier, did you not?" The low interjection from behind her promised retribution, and Hermione winced.

Cautiously, she volunteered, "He was seen running through the halls, earlier, sir. There was some concern based on how alike he looked to a memory of the Professor. The incident from second year was brought up. As for here, it seemed the obvious choice. I figured even if you were not here, someone with the means to contact you probably would be."

"And just what was Mr. Potter doing out past curfew?" Professor Snape's voice was dangerous.

"Looking for me." Hermione lied through her teeth.

"And what were _you_ doing out past curfew?"

"My prefect rounds with Hannah." She was willing to bet the Hufflepuff prefect and DA member would back her up without question if asked. The DA had become incredibly close and loyal to each other this year, united in a cause right under Umbridge's nose, and Hufflepuffs were sorted based on a surplus of the quality.

"What, I wonder, did Mr. Potter find so important that it couldn't wait until your rounds were completed?"

"Professor, I'm sure we can discuss Mr. Potter's disobedience at a later time." Professor Dumbledore interrupted again, his tone mild. "A far more pressing question is whether or not you, Miss Granger, are willing to help us in this current...situation. In the coming school year it would be beneficial if Severus were accepted without question into the right circles, wouldn't you agree?" Professor Dumbledore's eyes twinkled, and Hermione knew he expected an immediate affirmative. However, was it worth trying if the young man in question was as uncooperative or as much of a git as in his later years? Attempting to integrate a Slytherin who was also clearly a Snape into Harry's close group was going to be difficult at best. She wasn't exactly a popular girl in general, either.

She leveled her stare back at the young man, who was watching her silently. "If _Severus,"_ she stressed the name, "wishes my help, then I shall do my best. Not for any other reason, sir. I'll not try to help or force a friendship if they're both unwilling."

"Just what do you think you can help me with, anyway?" He was genuinely curious.

"For one thing, I've got the best marks in the school; you could do far worse for a study partner." She shrugged offhandedly.

Professor Snape snorted.

Inspiration struck as she remembered Dumbledore's Army and she added, "Also, I have a...unique relationship with several prominent students spanning three of the houses. If I say you're okay, there are only a handful of people outside of Slytherin House who will question it, and the most socially powerful one of them is used to listening to me and assuming I'm right anyway, even if I'm not. With a couple of notable exceptions, I'm fairly well-liked among the professors, as well." She carefully did not look at the most notable of exceptions, sneering in the corner. "And I'm a prefect." She added as an after-thought, and shrugged again.

"She is not so very different from Lily Evans, of your school years, wouldn't you say, Professor Snape?" Dumbledore inquired genially.

The Potions master expression became positively livid, his face losing what little colour he usually possessed.

Hermione glanced between the two men, and for no reason she could really explain, felt compelled to add, "Except I have really horrid hair, of course."

The boy's eyes snapped up in attention. "You know Lily?"

Hermione was bemused. "Well, I know _of_ her, of course. Harry's one of my best friends, and she's Harry's mum after all." She shrugged casually.

At this the boy's eyes bugged and to her surprise he turned and shouted at Professor Snape. _"You let Lily_ marry _the_ARSE?!"

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><p><em>AN: Thank you so much to everyone who has read and reviewed! This started as a random plot bunny; I had no idea it would take off like this! The idea occurred to me several months ago while I was reading a particularly lovely time-turner fic ("The Time Turner" by ShellSnapeLuver on Granger Enchanted), and I started wondering why I hadn't yet read a fic where Severus came forward instead. I amused myself at the time with the thought that if _I _were ever to start writing fan-fiction (which of course would _NEVER_ happen), I'd give it a try. :-)_

_Fan Art From SusanMarieS: Please see the links on my profile. :-D She has created both an icon for me and done some manipulations for this story!_


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary:** A time travel story. When fifth-year Severus Snape tries to create a forward time-travelling philter to prove his worthiness to Lord Voldemort, he is disappointed to find that his creation is worthless. Or is it?

**Disclaimer:** All recognizable characters and fictional places do not belong to me; I am merely borrowing them for playtime before (respectfully) putting them back. Thank you, JKR, for allowing such things to happen.

**Pairings/Main Characters** Hermione Granger and Severus Snape, the other Severus Snape. A cast of other canon characters and couple of OFCs as well.

**Warnings:** This story is rated NC-17/MA, and it is not suitable for children under age 18. It is Alternate Universe, and includes strong language, lemons (graphic sex), violence and mention of violence/torture, unresolved sexual tension, and major character death.

**Thank You:** To the village that has raised this baby over the course of several chapters: Roo, Tom Without, Allee, Lauren, Nathaniel Cardeau and ThornedHuntress. Additional thanks to my current amazing "Team Tyche," who have listened to me bounce ideas and have cleaned up my writing, making this story so, so much more than it would have been otherwise: Dragoon811, BSC_AG, AdelaideArcher and Stgulik.

A thousand further thank yous to the extremely talented SusanMarieR, who created the official banner and cover art for this piece.

* * *

><p><strong>SEVERUS, REDUX<strong>_**  
><strong>_**By: TycheSong**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Four:<strong> _(In which Severus is told the truth about Lily and Sirius.)_

_Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, 20 May 1996, 1:40 AM_

Professor Snape's expression was menacing. "Perhaps it hasn't got through to you yet, dunderhead, but I didn't _let_ Lily do anything. I had absolutely no input on any of her decisions following...that day."

"Really, Professor, it doesn't make any sense to call _yourself_ a dunderhead," Professor Dumbledore objected benignly, and Severus shot him an irritated look.

Hermione's lips twitched as she glanced from Severus' to Professor Snape's face, then twitched again. Her lips compressed as she clearly tried to keep a straight face, and failed miserably. Severus felt his own expression grow darker.

Instead of being properly intimidated and backing off, the girl broke into suppressed laughter. No different from any other Gryffindor, then. Perhaps the need to mock one Severus Snape was programmed into all of them at their sorting.

"I...huh...huhm...sorry!" Hermione tried to gasp out the apology. "You just look so perfectly alike and _synchronised._ Your expressions..." she took another gasping breath. "It's just _funny."_

"I _told_ you," Professor Snape looked at his younger self with an aggrieved expression. "_the_ most insufferable, _annoying_ creature—"

"Yes, well. Now that the subject of Lily Evans has been brought up," Dumbledore interrupted, his expression serious, and twinkle-free, "there is something you should know about the matter." He directed the comment at Severus, an edge of pity in his expression. Severus _hated_ pity. More than he hated mockery or cruelty. Hermione abruptly cut off her giggling, her expression an odd mix of curious and stricken.

Professor Snape abortively shook his head. "Headmaster,"

"Professor." Dumbledore levelled the Professor with a hard look. "Would you rather he heard it from somebody else?"

"Heard what?" Severus was more than a little concerned by the heaviness the conversation had turned, though he was fairly certain he was hiding it well. "It can't really be worse than Lily marrying _the Arse_ can it?"

"Severus," The headmaster said gently, "about three months after you graduated Hogwarts, in 1979, Lord Voldemort declared open war on the impure blooded. A lot of very terrible things happened, and many people were killed. Lily Evans—Potter by then—was part of the resistance movement, as was her husband and several of their friends. In 1981, a spy in the resistance's ranks turned over the Secret Keeper's pass-key to Lord Voldemort for Potter Place. That very night both James and Lily Potter were murdered by the Dark Lord. Their son, Harry, survived by the skin of his teeth, and only because of some complicated blood magic. I'm sorry, my boy."

Severus had felt his blood draining and going cold in turn as the Headmaster had spoken; by the time he had finished he felt light headed. Then enraged. He turned on himself and shouted.

_"YOU!_ You were supposed to _protect_ her! He was going to let you! I saw it! She was supposed to be yours! _What did you do to change it?"_

"'Saw it,' Severus?" Dumbledore looked mystified as he glanced at the older Severus, slipping into calling him by his first name by long habit.

Professor Snape's face was stone. "The Mirror of Erised, sir."

"Ah, I see." The headmaster's face was contemplative, and sad. "That's why you were so certain—"

"Yes." The professor's voice was clipped.

Hermione's eyes were wide. Clearly she had been just overloaded with a surplus of unexpected information, even for her. "The mirror...Harry told me that it…" She glanced at Severus, clearly incredulous, then her gaze flew to her professor. "You fancied Harry's _mum?"_

Tears were beginning to leak down Severus' face, and he angrily swiped at his cheeks, hating them. "Will someone please explain? How did this happen!"

"The mirror doesn't tell the future." Professor Snape ground out. "It never did. It tells you what you _wish_ the future would be." His face was stone.

"But...Lily..."

"Is _dead."_ The Professor said harshly. "She was _never_ your friend again. She married Potter, had his brat, and then died for it."

"I...I'm sorry. I didn't know you felt..." Hermione's voice trailed off as both men glared at her. "I didn't mean to compare myself-"

"There _is_ no comparison. There never _could_ be." Severus lashed out scornfully, cruelly. The Professor's mouth twisted in an odd grimace.

Hermione bit her lip.

"Anything _else_ I should know about?" Severus glared at the Professor.

"Be glad you haven't taken the Dark Mark, yet." He responded quietly. "I did, and now must play a cat and mouse game with one of the greatest legilimens of all time; secretly doing everything in my power to bring him down. I've been tortured, watched the only men who've ever supported me be tortured, and we have all kissed his hem and thanked him for it afterward."

"Rosier? Mulciber? Avery?"

"Death Eaters, all, and more than a little insane. I would not call them my friends, now."

Severus hesitated. "Giselle?" She had been so sweet. An anomaly in Slytherin House, prone to day dreams and flowery verse. More than once he had wondered why she had been sorted there.

Professor Snape's face was expressionless. "She married beneath her father's standards, was disowned, and eventually died when a spell of her own design backfired on her."

"Oh!" An expression of realisation dawned across Hermione's face.

Both Severus Snapes ignored her, focusing on each other.

"You said you are a member of Lord—'He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's'—council. Is Lucius there, too?"

Professor Snape scoffed. "Indeed. Lucius is a pretty, deep-pocketed supporter that the Dark Lord likes to keep in his entourage, and has more or less bought his place at the table. He has no more influence than the rest of us, if that's what you are asking." The professor's face twisted into an ugly grimace. "It is ironic that of all his loyal Death Eaters, the five that remain his closest and most trusted are three friends from his own days at Hogwarts—Nott, Dolohov, and Rosier senior, and then his two oddities. The only woman allowed the Dark Mark, and the only half-blood."

"You say he murdered Lily." It was a statement, cold and hard.

"Yes."

"After promising to spare her, he killed her. Now you're attempting to kill _him."_

"Yes."

"Why don't you just...do it? Poison him, _Avada Kedavra,_ hell, stick a knife in him."

The headmaster answered his question instead. "It's more complicated than that, I'm afraid. He has expended a lot of effort in making himself near-invincible. I doubt any of those methods would work, and it would only compromise the Professor's delicate position."

"But you do know a way." Severus levelled the answer at the elderly wizard.

"Yes, I do believe so. It will be far from easy."

Severus nodded shortly. "I want to help."

Professor Snape's expression didn't change; he had already known the verdict. Hermione's expression, however, seemed to ease, and the Headmaster positively beamed. "Excellent! You'll start school next term, then, as planned. You'll have to think of a fitting first name for yourself."

"Fitting?" Hermione's brows furrowed, her gaze flitting from the Professor to the Headmaster and back in confusion.

"Oh, yes, of course. Naming among pure-blood families is a very serious matter, most of the prominent families have their own traditions. The Malfoys tend to choose Roman names, the Blacks are fae-blooded, and tend to choose astronomical ones. Young Narcissa is the notable exception, of course, I've always found that a bit odd, haven't you, Professor Snape? All that blond hair...yes, well."

The dark man snorted in amusement, and the headmaster continued as if he hadn't just cast doubt on the woman's parentage. "The Weasleys name their children after either kings or Arthurian characters. The Prince family," Dumbledore nodded to the Professor, "always found their names among characteristics they admired. For instance, Severity. His mother was Eileen for her mother's side, the Macnairs, who stick to traditional Scottish and Irish names, but her middle name, as I recall correctly, was Honour." He looked to Severus for confirmation, who nodded.

"Severus would best be served by a Prince name, I think, since he generally prefers to capitalise on that connection. Something to think about in the next week." Professor Dumbledore switched topics abruptly, his easy manner suddenly disappearing under a very grave expression. "Miss Granger, you mentioned that Harry has been receiving dreams about the Department of Mysteries?"

His older self shot the headmaster a look that Severus couldn't decipher.

"Yes sir." Hermione outlined what sounded like a fairly mundane dream about a doorway at the end of a hall to the Headmaster; it didn't sound particularly ominous, but the Headmaster treated it as if it were an incredibly serious matter, questioning the girl about minutiae.

She finished in a small voice. "Sir, do you think you will be returning to the school, soon? I only ask because _that woman_ is torturing students. She's been making Harry write lines with a Blood Quill all year, and several of the DA members that she caught when you left. She's authorised Filch to use corporal, as well. Sir, it's getting _bad."_

Severus had shot back to paying attention when she had mentioned a Blood Quill. Those were typically considered Dark objects, not sanctioned by the Ministry. Of course, not all blood-oaths or blood-magic was dark, but still, if a teacher at _Hogwarts_ was using one on children then the world he had entered was clearly a very different one than he had left.

The Headmaster shot Professor Snape a look that clearly said, _Did you know about that?_

The Professor shook his head minutely, but added "She did authorise corporal, and has been demanding Veritaserum from me for student interrogations. I was not aware of the Blood Quill."

The Headmaster looked slightly shaken for a moment before realising two of his students were still in front of him. He recovered his composure quickly, and turned back to Hermione. "Soon, I believe, Miss Granger. Very soon now, I think. I would not abandon my charges, I promise."

The girl looked visibly relieved. "Thank you, sir. That's good." The girl shot a sideways glance at Severus, and tentatively continued, "Sir, you mentioned that he was going to be staying here for the next week or so, and through the summer?"

The Headmaster inclined his head.

"I really don't know that that's prudent, sir, considering..."

The Headmaster seemed to know what she was referring to. "Quite right, Miss Granger, but they will just have to deal with it, and be adult about the situation."

Hermione looked doubtful, but all she said was, "Yes, sir. Does he know yet? Where is he?"

"Out taking in some air with Witherwings." Dumbledore's mouth firmed minutely; Severus could see the faint sign of displeasure. "Against my better judgment."

Neither had yet mentioned the mysterious other person by name yet, and Severus was about ready to hex one of them any minute if _someone_ didn't fill him in. His older self seemed to understand and explained to him softly.

"This safe house...it is ancient town home of the Black family."

Severus felt a sound that sounded remarkably like a menacing growl rise in his throat. "You mean the _other_ Arse."

Professor Snape nodded once, shortly. "Just so."

Severus shook his head. _"No._ No, I won't do it! I don't care if I have to sleep on the street. I am _not_ going to sleep under the same roof as that _wanker."_

"If it keeps you safe, though…" Hermione started, then bit her lip when both Severus Snapes turned their glares on her.

After he seemed assured of her silence, the Professor turned back to the Headmaster. "Sir, there are plenty of unused chambers at Hogwarts. If I might suggest…"

The Headmaster was frowning. "I do not think it's a good idea Professor. There are many eyes at Hogwarts, and not all of them are loyal to our cause. All it would take is the wrong person or portrait to recognise him."

"It might be best if you want any sense of peace here." Professor Snape drawled. "After all, he's sixteen, and _Black_ certainly hasn't matured at all. I'm certain I was intelligent enough at sixteen to know how to keep myself hidden for a mere week and a half."

Severus felt himself nodding in agreement, desperately hoping that his older self would persuade the Headmaster to not keep him in the same house as the _Arse._

Dumbledore did not look happy. "You truly believe then, that he should not be staying here, Professor? Is it really worth the risk?"

"As much as I would love to inflict my sixteen-year-old self on that animal, if you think Black is at all a worthy addition to the cause, it is probably better if my idiot self doesn't stay here." Professor Snape answered, sneering.

"Perhaps one of the spare staff rooms?" Hermione murmured, apparently lost in thought, one finger fiddling with a frizzy curl. "I'm certain Winky would particularly benefit from the prospect of having a _secret_ and _important_ responsibility only for her."

The Headmaster was smiling broadly. "An excellent notion, Miss Granger. I confess, I would be more comfortable if Severus stayed with the Professor, however."

Severus eyed himself dubiously. "I beg your pardon, sir, but I don't think—" came tumbling out of him over the top of "I'm not sharing my quarters with a student just because it's _myself—!"_ Both cut off abruptly with identical looks of horror, and Hermione appeared to be fighting laughter again.

"Your pet fugitive is due back at any moment," Professor Snape asserted, his voice cold. "I think it is best if we left, now."

"Indeed." Dumbledore inclined his head. "You will be taking Severus by Side-Along, I imagine? Whereas Miss Granger, I believe, can get herself back admirably by herself." His eyes twinkled.

Hermione flushed and glanced at the floor. "Yes sir."

"I find it very odd that no alert has gone up concerning underage Apparition." He continued. "Usually the Trace would have alerted the Ministry by now."

To Severus' interest, the red tint on her cheeks grew brighter. He would never be interested in anyone who wasn't Lily, of course, even if she was lost to him, but the colour in her cheeks turned her relatively plain features into something almost...pretty.

She seemed to understand some unspoken message from the Headmaster and shrugged awkwardly. "There was a lot to do, sir."

Dumbledore chuckled. "Quite. Perhaps it was for the best that you gave it up after all. Off you go then."

Confused, Severus followed the furiously red-cheeked girl and his older self down the stairs to the ground floor of the house, only vaguely hearing the Professor muttering darkly under his breath about insufferable swotty Gryffindors.

In the oddly warm air outside the house, Severus looked to the girl for an explanation. "He said you were underage, but that you could Apparate, and that the Trace didn't seem to apply to you." He waited for an explanation, and got a raised brow instead.

"So he did."

"So?"

"So, what?"

"How old _are_ you?"

She looked amused. "It's complicated."

"Your birthday is complicated?" Severus gave her an unfriendly look.

She, irritatingly, lifted a shoulder in a blasé half shrug. "Well, sure. Isn't yours?"

There was, Severus mused, as the Professor roughly grabbed his arm and Apparated them back to Hogwarts, really nothing he could say to that.

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><p><em>AN: Thank you all so much for reading, and especially to those wonderful readers who have also reviewed! I really do appreciate both the con-crit and the support and encouragement I've gotten! You have all been so amazing! Also, please say halloo to the newest person to join my Beta team: Tom Without. She is __super__ cool, and a great writer. If you're looking for a fun read, you should absolutely check her out! _

_I am not certain when the next chapter will be ready, as I've been rather frightfully busy lately and haven't started writing it (shame on me), but it will hopefully not be too much longer than seven to ten days. As always,_

_Keep the Candle Burning, -Tyche_


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary:** A time travel story. When fifth-year Severus Snape tries to create a forward time-travelling philter to prove his worthiness to Lord Voldemort, he is disappointed to find that his creation is worthless. Or is it?

**Disclaimer:** All recognizable characters and fictional places do not belong to me; I am merely borrowing them for playtime before (respectfully) putting them back. Thank you, JKR, for allowing such things to happen.

**Pairings/Main Characters** Hermione Granger and Severus Snape, the other Severus Snape. A cast of other canon characters and couple of OFCs as well.

**Warnings:** This story is rated NC-17/MA, and it is not suitable for children under age 18. It is Alternate Universe, and includes strong language, lemons (graphic sex), violence and mention of violence/torture, unresolved sexual tension, and major character death.

**Thank You:** To the village that has raised this baby over the course of several chapters: Roo, Tom Without, Allee, Lauren, Nathaniel Cardeau and ThornedHuntress. Additional thanks to my current amazing "Team Tyche," who have listened to me bounce ideas and have cleaned up my writing, making this story so, so much more than it would have been otherwise: Dragoon811, BSC_AG, AdelaideArcher and Stgulik.

A thousand further thank yous to the extremely talented SusanMarieR, who created the official banner and cover art for this piece.

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><p><strong>SEVERUS, REDUX<strong>_**  
><strong>_**By: TycheSong**

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><p><strong>Chapter Five:<strong> _(In which Severus is saved from boredom, and is once more friends with a Gryffindor Muggle-born)_

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry 23 May, 1996, 10:35 AM_

Severus stared at the ceiling of his bedroom, bored out of his mind, watching the oddly out-of-place ceiling fan spin. His eyes picked out one of the broad blades and traced it around and around and around. It seemed to move just slightly slower as he did that, until his eyes half crossed and he lost the blade in the whirring ring.

He had been given a few sets of clothing to wear, none of which suited him or fit just right, which honestly wasn't so bad. He was used to his clothes never looking quite right on him. If only they weren't so _cheerful._ He bloody well felt like a fool wearing this bright, cranberry red jumper. The shoes hurt his feet, too, being a half size too small, and seemed completely impervious to transfiguration. Since he hadn't been allowed to leave his rooms anyway, he had taken to spending all of his time barefoot. The castle's flagstone floor was _not_ the most comfortable thing to walk on barefoot, either. The only tolerable place to stand was the thick, shaggy rug right in front of the hearth. He supposed he should be grateful that he at least had his wand.

His elder version had at some point exchanged his wand for a new one made of birch, and when he had seen Severus' own, his brows had lifted in surprise. Clearly it had been a long time since he had seen it, and had possibly even forgotten that he had ever owned the one Severus currently held. Severus couldn't imagine ever wanting a different one, even knowing that it was fairly common for wizards and witches to change wands when they came to their full power at seventeen. He idly twirled the bloodwood wand in his fingers, watching the reddish wood flash around his fingers, appreciating the weight of it.

The suite was three rooms total, and all strangely modernised in comparison to what he thought of as typical Hogwarts. The walls and ceiling were plastered, there were no portraits or tapestries to be found, and to his astonishment, the bedroom had even boasted a ceiling fan. If he hadn't known better, Severus would have thought himself to be in another location entirely.

Besides boasting the overly soft hearth rug, his suite had only the barest amount of furniture: a bed, a dresser, a small writing desk, and one pathetic bookshelf with a grand total of nine—_nine!_—books on it. Five of them were textbooks for Defence Against the Dark Arts from various years; they contained very little information that he didn't already know. A few updates, but nothing really interesting. Over the course of the two and a half days he'd been shut up in this awful room, he had read the other four books, only one of which he read previously. He maintained his previous opinion that he couldn't stand the collective works of Emily Dickinson. Nor was he a fan, apparently, of _The Great Gatsby. The Witches of Milan_ seemed to be about a young witch and her misadventures in shopping and fashion. Whoever had this room before him had _awful_ taste in reading material.

Honestly, the most interesting book in the bunch had actually been the romance novel—not that he would ever admit to _reading_ it, much less enjoying it to anyone else. The story itself was kind of insipid, but it had a happy ending, and a couple of _very_ interesting scenes on pages 167–169 and again on 215. He hadn't thought books _printed_ things like that. After reading the story once he had actually gone back and re-read those two particular scenes a couple of times, half smirking, half curious.

Was that _really_ how it was done? He'd had his fantasies, of course, but they had never really been that detailed before, or included much deviation beyond the basic mechanics of fucking. He had to admit, the hero of the story did try things Severus himself wouldn't have thought of; all of which the heroine seemed to _thoroughly_ enjoy. Though he did still have doubts about the part with the wall. Frankly, it sounded a little uncomfortable for both parties and definitely exhausting.

His thoughts were interrupted by a soft rapping on the door, and Severus sat up immediately, staring at the offending portal suspiciously. No one was supposed to know he was here except the house-elf and his tetchy, kind-of-scary other self. The former had served him with unsettlingly creepy adoration until he'd told it bluntly to leave him alone unless called. The latter was supposed to be lording over sixth years at this moment. Neither were prone to knocking.

Gripping his wand, Severus sidled up behind the door, cautiously putting one hand on the knob, the other maintaining an offensive position. "Who is it?" He growled harshly.

"It's me," came the feminine reply. "Hermione."

He blinked in surprise. He hadn't realised that _she_ had been told where he had been put under room-arrest.

"Please let me in. I feel silly just standing the hall, talking to a door." She continued. "Plus, I've brought you some magazines and books."

Company _and_ reading material? That was far too good an offer for even he to sneer at. Severus hastily opened the door, dropping his arm so that she wouldn't see that he had been ready to hex, and stuck his wand in his back pocket.

Hermione entered, her arms loaded with several heavy tomes, and glanced about. "You're wearing red. I can't tell you what that imagery does to my head. Didn't do much with the place, did they?"

He didn't deign to acknowledge her first statement. "It used to belong to a female professor—presumably American—of Defence Against the Dark Arts who either didn't teach the highest two grades, or thought _those_ text books were worth taking with her."

"Really?" The girl's head tilted like a curious bird. "How do you know?"

Severus didn't answer, merely nodding his head toward the completely deficient bookcase. Hermione crossed over and sat on the floor to see better, dumping the books she had brought with her off to one side. Curious, she bent over the bottom shelf, then straightened with a grimace. "Emily Dickinson? You poor thing. I swear _I_ died reading 'I Watched a Fly Buzz.'" She sympathised.

Severus started, then despite himself, huffed a soft chuckle. "And you prefer?"

"Tennyson. Mmmm. And Poe."

"How did you get from Tennyson to Poe?"

"The same way, I imagine, your American professor got from Emily's _Collective Works_ to _Her Dark Wizard's Secret._ Women have such complicated hearts." She deadpanned. "How was it, by the way?"

"What?" He pretended arrogant ignorance.

Hermione smirked at him. _"Her Dark Wizard's Secret._ My roommate, Lavender, owns it, too, and it's made the rounds in the Gryffindor girls' dorm. It's been getting rave reviews from that set."

"Like I would read that!" He lied, scoffing.

She nodded, smirking a little. "Of course not. My apologies." She brightened suddenly, and then held up one of the thicker books she had brought, _Le Comte de Monte Cristo,_ shaking it in front of him enticingly. "Well, look here! I seem to have brought you Dumas. That's appropriately serious and intellectual enough a title to be worth your time, isn't it?" She dropped it gently next to him, the heavy book making a _thwack!_ as it hit the stone floor.

Severus glanced at it, and was momentarily taken aback. He lifted his brows. "This is in French."

She looked nonplussed. "Well, of course it is. It was written in French. Translations always lose something, don't you think?"

"Why would you think I can speak French?"

"Doesn't everybody?" She asked innocently, then snickered at her own lame joke. "No, I saw you reading _Les Maître des Potions Mensuel_ more than once over the summer, and during the tournament last year you chewed one of the Beauxbatons students out in his native tongue for a good ten minutes." Her brow furrowed. _"Sauf s'il s'agit d'une compétence vous avez appris plus tard dans la vie?"_

"Non, ma grand-mère maternelle était française."

"La mienne aussi! Ma mère m'a appris!"

They grinned at each other in delight that they had something in common. It felt odd to him, to feel his face twisting that way. He didn't think he had smiled broadly in a long time. Her face, in contrast, seemed very easy with the expression. She lit up when she smiled, he noticed. It turned her not-quite-attractive features into something that was, again, _almost_ pretty. It was amazing what something so simple as a facial expression could do.

Suddenly he remembered his teeth and stopped smiling abruptly. His mother hadn't been able to correct them with her wand snapped, and his parents hadn't been able to afford Muggle braces—not that he would have accepted them in any case, being a Hogwarts student. He supposed he could have asked Madam Pomfrey, but he'd always been half-ashamed to, and half too proud of the fact that he allegedly didn't care what people thought.

"What?" Hermione teased. "Did you suddenly get a headache from all that smiling?"

He shot her annoyed look, and she giggled.

"You know, I think I like you." She stated baldly. "You're not nearly as awful as you pretend, are you?"

Severus glanced down and squirmed slightly. Had anyone, ever, _in his entire life_ said that they had liked him before? Lily had a few times when they had both been small, but since then? Not even his mother, he thought. Possibly Malfoy, once, but only after Severus had said something ignorant that Lucius had taken as a dry-witted and cruel joke at the expense of a Hufflepuff. He hadn't meant to be mean at the time; he honestly hadn't known that the boy had just failed a Charms class rather spectacularly.

Severus shifted again, and changed the subject, feeling suddenly as if he'd rather not think about it. "What other books do you have for me?"

She took the cue immediately, and reached to her side to pull out the others. "The last three months' publications of both _Potions Today!_ and _The Duellist,_ the special Decade! editions of _Wizards' Life_ from 1980 and 1990, Alice Hoffman's _Practical Magic_ because I doubt you've read it and I firmly believe everyone should, and Dante's _Divine Comedy._ In English, since to my knowledge you don't speak Italian?"

Severus blinked in surprise. She had clearly put a lot of thought into her selections. What was _Practical Magic,_ a book of household spells, perhaps? He gave her a sidewise glance, staring at _Divine Comedy._ "No," he answered her question. "Why the book about hell?"

She grinned evilly. "Welcome back to Hogwarts!" She paused for effect, and smiled in satisfaction when his eyes widened slightly and his lips tipped in amusement. She tossed a stray curl over one shoulder to join the mess cascading down her back, and continued. "You can actually keep that one if you like. I want _Practical Magic_ back, though, and _Le Comte de Monte Cristo._ The periodicals belong to the library."

"Thank you." She really was the oddest creature he had ever encountered.

"You're welcome." She beamed. "Now, come on, let's go."

"What?" Severus immediately felt guarded. "What do you mean?"

"I may be a swot, Severus Snape, but I _am_ still a Gryffindor. You didn't really think I'd come just to drop off books and leave you to your doom, did you? I'm breaking you out, at least briefly. Up you get! We're getting you outside."

Slightly dazed, he allowed the girl to pull him to his feet by his wrist. She tilted her head at him again, her chocolate brown eyes studying him, and then she did a series of small flicks at him. His skin heated with unnatural warmth, not quite hot. She stepped back, studied her work, then flicked her wand again.

"Ta-da!" She announced, tilting her chin toward the door to the loo.

Quirking a brow at her, he poked his head in, and blinked in shock. He didn't look anything like himself. His hair was shorter, and a wavy sort of brown, and his eyes were a shockingly bright blue. His nose was still his most prominent feature, but even it seemed somehow...different. He still wasn't handsome, but he wasn't ugly either. In fact, except for his eyes, he looked startlingly average. The sort of person no one would bother looking at twice.

"It's a glamour." She informed him helpfully. "I've been teaching myself how to do them the last couple of months or so. It'll wear off on its own after several hours, and it won't fool anyone touching you, but I don't expect you routinely have people touching your face."

"Where are we going?"

"Hogsmeade. We're going to find you books and clothes you actually _want_ to own."

Severus sneered. "What makes you think I'm not perfectly fine with what I'm wearing?"

She eyed him critically as she steered him toward the door. "They don't look like they fit right; they can't possibly be comfortable. I can transfigure them if you like but your jumper's _red."_

"Something wrong with red, Gryffindor?" He baited, and enjoyed it as her cheeks pinkened in response.

"You just have never seemed to enjoy anything associated with Gryffindor House before, including its colours."

"So...you know me pretty well then, I guess? The other me, I mean."

She tilted her head again in that uncertain wobble. "Not _well_ by any stretch of the imagination. He rather doesn't like me," She answered wryly. "But he _has_ been my teacher for five years, and I spent the last summer in close quarters on a fairly regular basis. I know him well enough to know he doesn't ever wear red. Really, anyone at school could tell you as much. We, however, are hopefully going to get you away from that image. We don't want anyone speculating on how alike the two of you are for not knowing each other well."

"I'm not letting you turn me into a Slug Club wannabe look-alike."

"A _what?"_ Her expression was aghast.

"My Potions professor. He had this group of pet students who all were either really talented or came from important families. They all dressed really well and hung out in a group. They used to attract all sorts of other students who _wished_ they were good enough. They would dress nicely, too, and follow them around."

Hermione was frowning. "And you weren't a member?"

"No." He said shortly.

"But...you said he was the Potions professor."

"Yes."

"But you're _brilliant_ at Potions."

"I'm not..._presentable,_ though. Not really up to snuff when you can choose someone like Lily, who's pretty good at Potions, and also, you know, pretty."

"I'm sorry you heard about her like that."

"Let's just get going, okay?" He said gruffly, trying not to let his voice crack with emotion. In an effort to change the subject, he offerred, "They're kicking me out of my House."

"Kicking you out?"

"Dumbledore says Slytherin House would be a bad influence on me in my 'mental state,' and has arbitrarily decided that the Sorting Hat put me in Ravenclaw.

"Excellent!"

He scowled. "What's so great about being forcibly torn out of your House? I happen to be proud of being a Slytherin!"

"Well, it's not like all your friends are _still_ there, and this way, we can be friends. The Slytherins would never let that happen once you were back with them."

He gave her an odd look, and asked tentatively, "You want to be my friend, then?"

Hermione gave him a puzzled smile. "What did you think this _was,_ Severus?"

And that, he supposed, was that.

* * *

><p><em>AN: Over time I have had the French in this chapter corrected multiple times by multiple people all claiming to be native French speakers from various places. I have decided at this point that I will no longer be going back to continuously change the French over and over as different people disagree with it. I am aware that is currently (still) not correct, but from this point forward, please accept the mistakes as the characters' and keep in mind they are speaking a second language that neither has spoken in a long while._

Maître des Potions Mensuel – _The Potion Master's Monthly_

"Sauf s'il s'agit d'une compétence vous avez appris plus tard dans la vie?" – _"Or is that a skill you learned later in life?"_

"Non, ma grand-mère maternelle était français." – _"No, my maternal grandmother was French." _

"La mienne aussi! Ma mère m'a appris." – _"Mine, too! My mother taught me."_

_Also, I received some awesome fan art from Roo! Please see the links on my profile. :-D Her work is entitled "You're Wearing Red."_


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary:** A time travel story. When fifth-year Severus Snape tries to create a forward time-travelling philter to prove his worthiness to Lord Voldemort, he is disappointed to find that his creation is worthless. Or is it?

**Disclaimer:** All recognizable characters and fictional places do not belong to me; I am merely borrowing them for playtime before (respectfully) putting them back. Thank you, JKR, for allowing such things to happen.

**Pairings/Main Characters** Hermione Granger and Severus Snape, the other Severus Snape. A cast of other canon characters and couple of OFCs as well.

**Warnings:** This story is rated NC-17/MA, and it is not suitable for children under age 18. It is Alternate Universe, and includes strong language, lemons (graphic sex), violence and mention of violence/torture, unresolved sexual tension, and major character death.

**Thank You:** To the village that has raised this baby over the course of several chapters: Roo, Tom Without, Allee, Lauren, Nathaniel Cardeau and ThornedHuntress. Additional thanks to my current amazing "Team Tyche," who have listened to me bounce ideas and have cleaned up my writing, making this story so, so much more than it would have been otherwise: Dragoon811, BSC_AG, AdelaideArcher and Stgulik.

A thousand further thank yous to the extremely talented SusanMarieR, who created the official banner and cover art for this piece.

* * *

><p><strong>SEVERUS, REDUX<strong>_**  
><strong>_**By: TycheSong**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Six:<strong>_ (In which Severus, Hermione, and Professor Snape have an altercation, Luna reveals herself to be more then she seems, and Hermione tries to enlist the aid of a house elf.)_

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, 23 May 1996, 11:16 AM_

"So...why _does_ he—you know, the Professor—hate you so much? What did you do to him that was so awful?" Severus' voice floated from half a step behind her, and Hermione twisted her head around to look just in time to catch his shrewd look.

Hermione offered him a weak smile. "Well, I'm a Gryffindor for one, which is just a bad start to begin with, and I'm a bit of a swot. I was particularly vocal in my first couple of years." Hermione grimaced a bit, and then admitted reluctantly, "I still am, a bit. I think sometimes I try a little too hard for his liking.

"I'm also best friends with Harry, who he's _really_ got it in for. He looks a lot like his dad, or so I'm given to understand, and anyone who is friends with him is automatically collateral damage as far as Professor Snape is concerned."

"Best friends?" Severus' mouth set in a hard line. He stopped abruptly and crossed his arms over his chest. "So why be nice to me, then? I mean, I appreciate the books, but _why?_ It's not like you're his pet student or anything. You're not even friendly toward each other. Why should you give a damn if I like you or not?" His eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"Because _I_ don't." Professor Snape seemed to materialise out of nowhere, startling Hermione into a small shriek. He smiled at her cruelly, but addressed Severus. "Hermione Granger has a pathological need to be adored and admired by all of her professors. She knows I _never_ will. You, however..." He let his voice trail off. _"You_ she can manipulate or bribe into being her friend, and then use to whatever ends she and Potter and Weasley decide is most helpful."

The Professor sneered down at him, and slashed his wand as if batting away a fly, dispelling her glamour. "Take that off, you look _ridiculous._ Where did you two think you were going, anyway? You're not supposed to be leaving your suite." The Professor turned to her and arched a supercilious brow. "Ten points from Gryffindor for inciting disobedience."

Hermione felt the blood drain from her face, and found that her voice had maddeningly deserted her. He'd been even worse to her than usual since their meeting at Grimmauld Place. She had been over confident there, cheeky to the point of reckless, and he had punished her for it in spades at every opportunity since.

He usually simply ignored her and aimed his ire at Harry, since she rarely did anything incorrect in her brewing. Lately the Professor had let her know of his displeasure with her every action. She had lost more points in his class in the last three days than she had previously lost in three months combined. Gryffindor was already dangerously low with Umbridge's Inquisitorial Squad taking them right and left, it really was a wonder that there were any left.

Severus gave her a pinched look, and asked, "Is that true?"

Hermione shook her head minutely, and stammered, "No...of course not..." She stuttered to a halt. _Was_ it true? Why did she feel more compelled than usual to make sure this young, skinny boy liked her? Was it a subconscious attempt to win the Professor's good will? Hermione swallowed, and found her voice again. "I mean...maybe I _do_ want his approval—at least in the classroom, but I—"

Professor Snape quirked a brow mockingly at her, clearly entertained by her admission, and cut her off bitingly. "She's rather like the Lupin to their Potter and Black. Not especially popular or pretty, but clever and doesn't do much to stop them. They change their Pettigrew on a regular basis, depending on whom and what they need. You wouldn't want to be the next replacement. Their last one ended up dead, and their current one, Longbottom, is a disaster."

"How dare you." Hermione whispered. The comment that she wasn't especially pretty stung enough that she flinched, but it was quickly forgotten under the rest of his accusations. She felt a tear track down one cheek and angrily swiped at it. "How _dare_ you imply that Cedric's death was Harry's fault! Cedric and Harry hardly knew each other before the whole Tournament, and they helped each other out. Harry _didn't_ use him!"

"Yes, he did. He used that boy's natural inclination to be fair and honest in order to win, and in the end, that boy died, and Potter was dating his girlfriend in less than six months." The professor snarled. He addressed his younger self once more. "More recently Miss Granger and her cohorts started an illegal club that landed many of them in a _rather_ harsh detention. The youngest was only twelve. Twelve years old, and he was subjected to that corporal punishment she was just whining about." Professor Snape was looking at her now, rather than his younger self, driving the point home with narrowed eyes.

"Regardless of what the Headmaster tries to tell you, it is _not_ going to be in your best interest to be involved in another friendship with a Gryffindor Muggle-born girl, especially one who is already firmly in Potter's pocket."

Professor Snape stared haughtily down at Hermione. "You're dismissed, Miss Granger. I do believe your _favourite_ professor is still in the hospital wing while you gallivant about, breaking rules, and you have a History of Magic exam to take this afternoon. Surely one or the other can occupy your attention for the time being?"

He turned his back to her pointedly, and addressed his teenaged self. "And you. Get back into your room before someone sees you, and watch yourself and your company from here on out." The Professor held his stare for a moment, his face hard. Then just as suddenly as he appeared, he turned and swept down the hall, his boots thudding down the hall as if punctuating his earlier statements.

Severus gave her an unfriendly, suspicious look; clearly his elder version's words had hit a nerve. "So what, was I supposed to tag around after you and Potter once school starts, and accept whatever crumbs you throw me and be grateful? Because I can tell you right now that that's not going to happen! I got by perfectly fine for five bloody years without being friends with a Potter, I can get by the next two without a Potter and his friends just as well. I'm not a fucking charity case."

Still trying to stem her tears, Hermione burst, "No! I'm not trying to—"

"Then what?" He snarled. "Are you ingratiating yourself because you think _he'll_ give you better marks if he thinks you're nice to me?"

"It's not like that at all!" Hermione openly had angry tears pricking her eyes now, threatening to spill over. "I just want to help you. I've already got good marks. He has just never liked me. I _told_ you why."

Severus sneered, a mirror image of the one she had just been subjected too; she didn't find the similarities in their facial expressions funny now. "Only immature children blame their failings on their professors 'not liking them.'" He snarled.

Well that was rich, coming from Severus Snape. Hermione narrowed her eyes and opened her mouth to retort back that there wasn't much of a difference blaming your failings on your professors liking someone else better, but he cut her off, jerking his chin angrily.

"What did you do, then, to make him compare you to Lupin?"

"Nothing!" Hermione ran a frustrated hand through her hair and winced as her fingers caught in the tangled curls and pulled none too gently. "Got sorted into Gryffindor and became friends with a Potter."

"Oh, nothing, is it?" Severus' dark eyes narrowed at her. "You've never hexed or hit anyone? You've never broken rules and gotten away with it just because you're a Gryffindor? Seems to me you were taking me to Hogsmeade on a Wednesday pretty casually for someone who's not used to getting away with everything."

Stricken, Hermione reached out to him, "Sev, you were game with coming a moment ago. Listen, will you? I can explain!"

_"Don't touch me!"_ Severus shouted it at her, his voice echoing down the stone halls. He took a deep breath through gritted teeth. "And _don't_ call me Sev. My name is _Severus."_

Hermione reeled back as if struck, hurt and confusion warring inside her with anger. She drew herself up to her tallest, not quite eye-level with his chin, and did her best to stare him down as if he were the one who was smaller. The silence was deafening for several moments.

"Fine." She spat. "Fine. You want me to leave you alone? I will. I did say that I had no interest in helping someone who didn't want to be helped. You can just go back to your room with your nine—now twelve—books, and wear your red jumper, and carry on a conversation with the mirror for the next week for all I care. Just don't you dare blame your lack of friends on anyone but yourself!"

Hermione spun and stalked the opposite direction that the Professor had gone, leaving Severus to stand alone in the hallway. She swore she could actually feel her impossible hair bristling with indignation, and that just made her feel worse. She was just about to turn the corner when she paused and looked back at him, her eyes flashing.

"For the record, _Snape,_ I honestly do think you're both intelligent and interesting. It's a shame you don't think it's possible for someone else to enjoy that—and you—for what you are."

A little smug with the delivery of her exit line, Hermione stormed off down the hall, anger simmering in her stomach. She hadn't _done_ anything to him. The Professor may not like her, but she hadn't deserved to have her head bitten off by Severus! She shook her head vehemently. It was probably better this way, anyway. Harry had already been absolutely volatile all year, steadily getting worse as the Headmaster had ignored him while Umbridge had targeted him. Once it became known that Hermione was attempting friendship with the "greasy git," he would have gone ballistic. Not to mention Ron, who was always willing to be completely unreasonable when the subject had anything to do with his least enjoyable professor. With everything going on, she really didn't have the time to try to win over the angry young man and keep her current friends grounded. Honestly the whole situation was ridiculous.

Severus had the worst bloody timing in the world. The irony of that thought, considering the situation, was very nearly unbearable.

Hermione sighed, and headed back to the library. She had just left, magazines in tow, and no doubt Madam Pince would subject her to a confused look on top of the long-suffering look she always did. She did have that exam this afternoon, though, and it really wouldn't hurt to study for it more, especially since her previous plans had been curtailed.

She was nearly there when she came across Luna, picking up scattered books and papers from the floor.

"Oh. Luna." Hermione dropped to the floor to help. "What happened?"

"Oh, it was just Crabbe. He thinks it's funny to make me drop things, you know. He likes to say the Wrackspurts make him do it, because he overheard me once telling Ginny about them. He always says it like he's making fun of me, but you know," Luna tilted her head thoughtfully, "he might not be entirely wrong. He does have an incredibly hard time puzzling things out."

"Right. Wrackspurts." Hermione said tightly. "Luna, he's just a cruel bully. You shouldn't just put up with it."

Luna blinked at her, surprised. "You think I should hex him? Or hit him, like you did Malfoy a couple of years ago?"

Hermione flushed, reminded of Severus' earlier accusations. "No. No, of course not. That wasn't one of my better moments, was it? I'm just...I'm just angry right now, is all."

"Oh." Luna stood, papers in order, and Hermione stood with her. "Why are you angry? It's not still because of Marietta Edgecomb, is it? Because I think you got her back more than adequately."

Oh, Merlin, maybe she really _wasn't_ any better than the Marauders had been to Severus. She shifted her feet uneasily. "No. No, it's just...I tried to be friendly with someone, and I got yelled at for the trouble. I just feel like I wasted my time, that's all."

Luna nodded sagely. "I understand. Like the fox said. No shop with ready-made friends, and no time to understand and all that." She frowned softly. "My father says I should take up drawing."

Hermione stared, startled by the long forgotten memory Luna's words stirred. "Wait. What did you say?"

"Drawing. Or perhaps painting. My father says it—"

"No, no." Hermione cut the other girl off. "Before that, about the fox."

The dreaminess in Luna's gaze vanished for a moment, and Hermione was suddenly given a very clear glimpse of the reason Luna had been sorted into Ravenclaw. "Friends. You have to be patient, and tame them. They'll eventually come to you if done right."

Hermione stared at the other girl, wide-eyed. What was left of her anger leeched away abruptly, and she felt rather ashamed of herself. She _hadn't_ really bothered to see anything from his point of view, and honestly, his lashing out at her was understandable, given what Harry had told her of Professor Snape's Pensieve memories. "Luna...you're really...really..."

"It's okay." The girl disappeared back behind her serene, dreamy expression. "I know what people say. I'll see you later, okay?"

"Right. Right, I have to go—go to the library."

The blonde nodded. "I thought as much. Your history exam, it's very important."

Hermione nodded shakily. "Luna?"

"Yes, Hermione?"

"Thanks."

"You're welcome."

She didn't go to the library right away. She went to the gardens instead, on the far side of the greenhouses, and selected one of the newly bloomed apricot-coloured roses. Precisely the sort of flower that most people didn't imagine when they thought of traditional roses. She knew Severus probably wouldn't understand, but Luna had made her feel rather poetic, and she could always explain if he found it odd enough to ask about. She rather thought he would.

The library was next on her list, where she selected a volume she had witnessed the Professor reading idly the previous summer at Grimmauld Place: _Sprekelia and Sangre de Drago: The Memoirs of a Potions Mistress' Travels Through South America._ The Hogwarts copy had clearly only been read once or twice before, as evidenced by its nearly pristine condition. She doubted anyone besides Madam Pince would miss it if Severus decided to keep it for a while.

The look on the librarian's face was comical when she brought it to the desk to check out. "Old periodicals and now a potions journal? Miss Granger, just _what_ are you working on now?"

Hermione felt her lips twitch a little. "One of the sections in _Potions Today!_ mentioned that this was a good read." She said innocently. "I was really glad the library had it." Madam  
>Pince frowned at her, as if she could tell that something wasn't quite right about the situation, but checked out the book for her.<p>

Hermione ducked into one of the deserted corridors of books that made up the labyrinthine stacks of the Hogwarts Library, and whispered softly, "Winky?" The little house elf _cracked_ into existence, and gave Hermione a guarded look. Clearly, she didn't trust Hermione an iota. She would have to choose her words carefully. "I know that you have a very important, _secret_ job, Winky. You're taking care of someone no one else knows about. I know because I told the Headmaster that you were the best at being loyal and keeping secrets."

The elf's eyes narrowed a little dangerously, but her thin little shoulders also straightened marginally, as if in agreement.

"I have a book, and a flower, for him. You don't have to tell me where he is, or who he is, or if he's even really real, but if he were to get them, I think it would make him less unhappy." Hermione tried to gauge Winky's expression. She seemed to be considering the offer, uncertain if accepting Hermione's gifts would be admitting to the existence of her charge or not. Suddenly inspired, Hermione put the book on the floor, and laid the rose on top.

"I'm going to just leave these here," She said seriously. "And if they were to not be here in a half hour or so, then I would have to assume that you or another house-elf just put them away, so that they weren't out of place, right?"

Hermione stood again, and backed away a couple of steps. The elf contemplated the small offering on the floor, and then said slowly, "I is a good house-elf, Miss Hermione."

Hermione nodded, perhaps a touch too vigorously. "I know, Winky." She turned then, decisively, and made her way to her usual study table, at the far end of the library.

She did have a History of Magic exam later in the afternoon, after all, and despite Luna's teasing; it really _was_ a matter of great consequence.

* * *

><p><em>AN: Finally, right? Not nearly as humorous a chapter, I know, but it was due. _

_Thank you so much for your patience waiting for this chapter! It has been a very difficult few weeks for me, and I'm afraid my writing got put on the back burner while I grappled with some personal problems and a mild case of writer's block. The two may or may not have been subconsciously related; all I know is that I rewrote this chapter (and the chapter I'm currently working on for The Lucky Ones) about five or six times apiece, and I am still not really satisfied with either._

_However, the show must go on, yes? I do know that this chapter ends a little oddly (bonus points to those of you who get the reference without looking it up), but as I said, it's been an odd couple of weeks._ _Much obliged if you will review._

_Also, I have yet to decide on a name for Severus to take publicly once he is introduced to people over the summer, and so I thought I'd give you input! If you have any ideas, I would love to hear them! The only guideline is that it needs to be a character quality (as per my previously established "Prince Tradition"). I will be dedicating the next chapter to whomever comes up with the winner. :-) Send answers by private message, review, or e-mail (both e-mails can be found on my profile). Thanks for participating!_


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary:** A time travel story. When fifth-year Severus Snape tries to create a forward time-travelling philter to prove his worthiness to Lord Voldemort, he is disappointed to find that his creation is worthless. Or is it?

**Disclaimer:** All recognizable characters and fictional places do not belong to me; I am merely borrowing them for playtime before (respectfully) putting them back. Thank you, JKR, for allowing such things to happen.

**Pairings/Main Characters** Hermione Granger and Severus Snape, the other Severus Snape. A cast of other canon characters and couple of OFCs as well.

**Warnings:** This story is rated NC-17/MA, and it is not suitable for children under age 18. It is Alternate Universe, and includes strong language, lemons (graphic sex), violence and mention of violence/torture, unresolved sexual tension, and major character death.

**Thank You:** To the village that has raised this baby over the course of several chapters: Roo, Tom Without, Allee, Lauren, Nathaniel Cardeau and ThornedHuntress. Additional thanks to my current amazing "Team Tyche," who have listened to me bounce ideas and have cleaned up my writing, making this story so, so much more than it would have been otherwise: Dragoon811, BSC_AG, AdelaideArcher and Stgulik.

A thousand further thank yous to the extremely talented SusanMarieR, who created the official banner and cover art for this piece.

* * *

><p><strong>SEVERUS, REDUX<strong>_**  
><strong>_**By: TycheSong**

* * *

><p><em>Chapter Dedication: This chapter is dedicated to <em>_**immyownsuperman,**__ for choosing young Severus' new name for his public debut. It will be making its first appearance next chapter. Thank you!_

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Seven:<strong>_ (In which Severus muses about women and flowers, and comes to some conclusions) _

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, 18 June 1996, 02:01 AM_

The journal of Daniela Delgado and her exploratory hunt through South America in the name of both research and what she called "Self Actualisation" was one of the most interesting and compelling reads Severus had gotten in a long while. Originally from New Mexico, she had started in Maracaibo, Venezuela, and had apparently spent nearly seven years hiking across South America, often staying in remote villages for months at a time, studying the local flora and fauna.

Sangre de Drago, it turned out, was not _actually_ dragon blood—which was already known for its potent magical uses—but tree sap, of all things. It had been named "Dragon Blood" simply because of the way the dark red sap had looked dripping against the paler Croton tree. It had been used by Muggles for medicinal purposes for centuries.

Potions Mistress Daniela had studied it extensively, and found that as a component it had enormous possibilities in the potioning world, as well. The forward mentioned that on returning home she was continuing her research and experimentation with the resin, making it her focus now that she had attained her Potions Grand Mastery.

Since starting the journal, it was now one of Severus' burning desires to go to the two towns in Argentina and Colombia that Daniela had lived in for nearly three years and study it himself. Or possibly even try to recreate her entire journey. Rain and mud aside, it sounded spectacular!  
>The <em>Sprekelia,<em> on the other hand, seemed to be more of a metaphor for Daniela herself, rather than merely a component. It apparently wasn't even really a South American flower, but a Mexican one, as was the Potion Mistress' ancestry.

The poignant personal journey she had made simultaneously as her research trip was stirring enough that Severus felt a pang of envy. She was so…sure of herself; so aware of both her triumphs and failings, and completely comfortable with both. He consoled himself with the idea that he was perfectly fine with himself the way he was, and not _really_ in need of any "Self Actualisation," but the thought rang hollow. He knew he wasn't nearly as...peaceful as Daniela seemed to be.

He glanced at the exotic looking flower on the cover of the book that had been nicknamed "the Aztec Lily," and his heart twisted a little.

_Lily._ She had not been exotic, or particularly vivacious, but she had never been anything less than the most stunning, dynamic sort of beauty to him. Somehow, she had been both heavenly and reachable. The loveliest girl in the entire world had chosen to be his friend, until he had irretrievably screwed it up. His gaze drifted from the brilliantly red, spiky flower on the book to the pale orange one he had carefully set in a blue plastic cup of water by the bed. It was an incongruous container, but it was the only one his suite contained.

The flower suited the girl who was no doubt behind the offering just as well as the Aztec Lily seemed to suit Potions Mistress Daniela Delgado. Hermione, like her flower, was not exotic. Just a pale normal sort of English rose that wasn't conventional or even _really_ pretty. Almost, sometimes, when she smiled, but not quite. Her hair was just a bit too wild, her build a bit too thin, her coloring just a bit too plain, her clothing a bit too drab. She was, like him, just a bit too _everything,_ it seemed.

And yet...she had tried to be friendly. He was still suspicious as to her motivations behind her interest, but even a false friend had at least alleviated the monotony for that brief half-hour. She was funny, in an odd sort of way, and she spoke _French._ It was common enough in England as far as second languages went; it wasn't as if she had suddenly spouted Farsi or Cantonese, but still. It was a connection, and it had felt good. She was clever, too, and seemingly not disgusted by or afraid of him in the least, despite being clearly intimidated by his menacing counterpart.

Thoughtfully, and not entirely realising he was doing it until it was done, he reached out a finger and stroked the edge of the oddly-coloured rose that was only barely coming into full bloom. _Why_ had she given it to him? Was it her own personal comparison, like Daniela in the book? Or was it a calculated, manipulative move to make him think that she _liked_ him, as in...well..._liked?_ If that were the case, he didn't believe it for a moment. They had only met twice, after all, and he knew exactly how offensive his appearance was. Girls just didn't _like_ blokes like him, particularly not on sight.

Perhaps it was a joke; revenge of some sort for their fight. Maybe it was her way of laughing at him. Or maybe she hoped to gain his trust, then publicly repudiate him at an inopportune time. Maybe she had told the Headmaster she couldn't stand him, and he was forcing her to be nice anyway.

Or perhaps...perhaps she, like him, just felt strangely connected by their individual...oddities. Right. He snorted softly to himself. Like _that_ was likely. The list of possibilities was longer than he was comfortable with. He preferred to know someone's motivations, especially towards him. What did he _really_ know about Hermione Granger? Putting _Sprekelia and Sangre de Drago_ aside on the small night table next to him, Severus leaned back on the bed and stared thoughtfully at the ceiling, hands clasped behind his head.

She was a Gryffindor. _That_ was hardly a good sign. Like his elder self had cautioned, nothing remotely good had come out of that house, ever, as far as one Severus Snape was concerned. Apparently, in the intervening years between sixteen and thirty-six, most of which were spent at the castle, the blanket rule still held as true. If his elder self was telling the truth, she also ran about in a pack, as previous Gryffindors before her had, including a Potter.

A low grunt actually emerged at that thought. More indication that she was not someone he should be in any sort of friendly relations with. She was a Muggle-born. His brow furrowed at the thought. That was supposed to be one of the absolutes. No magical blood, no redeeming. Except, Lily was a Muggle-born. Had been. Lily _had been_ a Muggle-born.

She had been _everything._ His heart clenched again, and he actually felt his lungs compress as he momentarily lost breath on a soft groan. His eyes pricked, and he rubbed at them savagely with his sleeve cuff. Fuck, but he hated crying. It was how he got that awful nickname in the first place. The only one who'd bothered to see past it at the time had been _Lily._

_Oh, Lily!_

Perhaps being a Muggle-born could be permissible.

He sat up again, hoping to spend at least _one fucking day_ not thinking about it and dying inside. He hopped off the bed, beginning to pace the floor like the caged animal he was. Hermione Granger. Right. That's what he was supposed to be deciding.

She was either lying about her age, or she—like he—was no stranger to meddling with time. He rather thought it was the latter. The Trace hadn't alerted. She was intelligent, sarcastic, and surprisingly vulnerable looking when he had flung his angry words at her. He had never really seen a Gryffindor look vulnerable, before. Hers, however, had been palpable. Until she had suddenly decided to get angry instead. He stopped for a moment, remembering, a faint smile touching his lips. She might have been very plain looking, but her anger had been _glorious._ It had been like watching a sparrow suddenly imitate a Welsh Green and spit fire.

Her spine had stiffened and something savage had lit in her eyes. For a moment he had been certain she was going to throw a rather spectacular hex at him. His hand had tightened on his wand in anticipation of shielding himself from it, and he found himself _enjoying_ the anticipation of a magical clash with her. _These_ were grounds he was familiar with, and she was a far more interesting opponent than James-Bloody-Wanking-Potter-the-Arse.

She had surprised him, however. She had departed instead with her own cutting, haunting words. _It's a shame you don't think it's possible for someone else to enjoy that—and you—for what you are._ Could she really be telling the truth? She found him interesting? Perhaps. His situation was interesting, certainly. Of course she found him intelligent. Nearly everyone who spoke to him found that to be true. Most found it overly true. He was a bit too intense, it seemed.

Another connection they had. She had called herself a swot after all, had admitted that she thought she "tried too hard" for his elder version's tastes. Perhaps he _had_ been a bit hasty in running her off. He glanced ruefully at the nightstand that now held both rose and book. It was not like it had worked, anyway. He would be damned if he was going to go hunt her down though. It wasn't like she actually meant anything to him, and even if she had...well. He'd gone through that humiliation already once in his life, and the once had been plenty enough.

His door opened without warning, and Severus spun, wand snapping into his palm quickly, with the same manoeuvre that had startled others in the past. The Headmaster did not appear to think that there was anything out of the ordinary about his hair-trigger reflex at all.

Resentfully, Severus thought it was rather lucky for both of them that when Albus Dumbledore had decided to dispense with the formality of knocking that Severus hadn't been wanking off out of sheer boredom. It wouldn't have been the first time. For all the Headmaster knew, the only other pastime Severus had been furnished with were those awful books the room had come with.

Severus settled his face into the sneering, haughty countenance he had recently stolen from his older self. The look was alarming enough that even Severus had felt intimidated by it when the Professor had levelled it at him. Wherever the older man had originally picked it up, it was certainly a look worth cultivating. Severus hadn't really expected him to, but it felt a pity all the same.

"Severus." The old man glittered down at him. Really, there was no other word for it. His obscene _purple_ robes glittered, his eyes glittered, the little beads that had been braided obnoxiously into his beard glittered. Even his belt pouch and shoes glittered. Did he _know_ the impression he was giving?

"I trust you have been made comfortable? I understand there is little to do here; if you had stayed at Grimmauld Place there would have been more room to move about, and of course, the library at your disposal. Not to mention, your help would have been very useful there, yesterday." He paused for effect, allowing his gentle admonition to sink in.

Ah. So this was a next-time-listen-to-me-I'm-wiser-than-thou sort of visit. Severus lifted an eyebrow, a trick he had been practicing for the last year or so, and answered in the mildest voice that he could manage, "I am more than willing to trade lack of stimulation for the sake of lack of Sirius."

"I see." The old man did not seem pleased with that response. He hesitated, the pause so slight, Severus was sure he was not supposed to recognise the innate uncertainty behind it. "I would advise you to be less vocal about your hatred in current days, Severus. Sirius Black was killed last night, and his death is felt keenly by many in the resistance you have now joined." He said quietly, then added, "There was something of an incident yesterday afternoon."

Severus felt his mind blank in shock. Dead? Sirius Black was dead. A part of him was glad. The Arse deserved every shred of ill-will Severus possessed. He hadn't wished him _dead,_ though. Well, not really. He _had_ wished it, but now that it had _happened..._

Bugger. He honestly didn't know what he felt. Not as gleeful as he thought he would feel, which surprised him. He had hardly expected to dance on the bastard's grave—far too undignified—but he had certainly not thought to be quite so subdued about it. He had thought he would at the least feel smug and vindicated.

If he were honest, his most prominent emotion seemed to be shock, followed by relief. Logically, of course, he knew that in the time he had inadvertently sent himself to, there were no Marauders to torture him at school on a daily, "catch-as-catch-can" basis. With the information that both Potter and Black were officially dead, however, something undeniably tight in his chest loosened all the same.

"An incident." He responded as neutrally as he could, and was pleased to find that he sounded mostly dispassionate. Severus crossed his arms and stared back steadily at the old man. It was the closest he would allow himself to an admission of ignorance or plea for information. The Headmaster seemed to recognise both the stance and the meaning behind it, and inclined his head obligingly to the right.

"Several students were under the impression that Mr. Black was being held captive by Lord Voldemort, and took it upon themselves to liberate him."

Severus felt his mouth tighten. Bloody Gryffindors, no doubt. Potter, most likely, which meant probably the girl, too, their "Black" and the other kid the Professor had mentioned, Longbottom. Probably the progeny of—or at least related to—the Longbottom he went to school with, which was a weird thought. Severus waited patiently for the old man to meander to the point. Oddly enough for the Headmaster, he didn't have to wait long.

"The result...well, the Ministry is inclined to listen now, when we say that Lord Voldemort is in fact a very real threat, which is a step further than where we have been the majority of this year, but we did not come out unscathed. As I said, Mr. Black is no longer with us, and a few students are currently in the infirmary. You perhaps remember the young lady introduced to you the evening of your arrival, Miss Granger?"

Severus felt his chest tighten. The girl was in the _hospital?_ He didn't trust her necessarily, but he hadn't wanted her _hurt._ Severus answered the Headmaster carefully, not willing to admit to an overt emotion of any kind. "I have seen her since then, briefly, yes."

The Headmaster smiled faintly. "I'm glad you two are getting along, Severus. You're very much alike."

Severus shrugged uncomfortably. "Well, we...I wouldn't say getting along...She brought me books." he finally finished lamely.

"Ah, yes. Well, come along then, my boy."

The Headmaster smiled benignly, not acknowledging Severus' surprised blink, gesturing with airy wave toward the door.

Severus balked. "I'm not supposed to go out."

"I should think my authority would be enough to allow an excursion, don't you?"

_Maybe._ He couldn't help but think of his forbidding elder self, descending on Hermione and him like a dark angel of student death. One couldn't say such things to the Headmaster however, no matter how insane he apparently was, so Severus just nodded warily.

As usual, Dumbledore seemed to know what he was thinking anyway. "It is several hours past curfew, Severus. There shouldn't be anyone about to see you."

Well, shite. He hadn't realised he had stayed up so late reading. In his windowless rooms, time had become nebulous to him at best. His eyes narrowed sat the old man suddenly, recalling the way he had simply walked in on him. What if he had been asleep? That had been just bloody inconsiderate. Unable to stop himself, he asked the question aloud, only to be met with a serene look in return.

"But you weren't. Now, put some shoes on."

"Where are we going?" Severus frowned in resigned loathing at the awful pinching shoes that never seemed to get better no matter how he tried to transfigure them. Fucking things were torture devices.

"The hospital wing, of course. Madam Pomfrey should be just about finished with her charges."

* * *

><p><em>AN: Wow, I got some amazing responses last chapter! Thank you for reading and reviewing! I really appreciate it, so much._

_Thank you also to everyone who played the Severus Name Game, there were several names for my team and I to vote on, ranging from sublime to hysterically funny. It was a lot of fun for me, so thank you for the indulgence. :-) I really thought this chapter would include the scene where it's used the first time, and found that it wound up just short of it._

_I will have the complete list of entries posted for a total of two weeks for those of you who want to see it. As always, happy reading, all!_


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary:** A time travel story. When fifth-year Severus Snape tries to create a forward time-travelling philter to prove his worthiness to Lord Voldemort, he is disappointed to find that his creation is worthless. Or is it?

**Disclaimer:** All recognizable characters and fictional places do not belong to me; I am merely borrowing them for playtime before (respectfully) putting them back. Thank you, JKR, for allowing such things to happen.

**Pairings/Main Characters** Hermione Granger and Severus Snape, the other Severus Snape. A cast of other canon characters and couple of OFCs as well.

**Warnings:** This story is rated NC-17/MA, and it is not suitable for children under age 18. It is Alternate Universe, and includes strong language, lemons (graphic sex), violence and mention of violence/torture, unresolved sexual tension, and major character death.

**Thank You:** To the village that has raised this baby over the course of several chapters: Roo, Tom Without, Allee, Lauren, Nathaniel Cardeau and ThornedHuntress. Additional thanks to my current amazing "Team Tyche," who have listened to me bounce ideas and have cleaned up my writing, making this story so, so much more than it would have been otherwise: Dragoon811, BSC_AG, AdelaideArcher and Stgulik.

A thousand further thank yous to the extremely talented SusanMarieR, who created the official banner and cover art for this piece.

* * *

><p><strong>SEVERUS, REDUX<strong>_**  
><strong>_**By: TycheSong**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Eight:<strong> _(In which Severus sees friends old and new, experiences the other side of favouritism, and is orally tortured)_

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, 19 June 1996, 02:12 AM_

Severus felt like an intruder. The hospital wing was dark, nearly deserted and silent, and it sent a chill skittering down his spine for no apparent reason. He shuddered violently, drawing a somewhat startled look from the Headmaster, and said defensively, "What? You've never just had that happen to you?"

Dumbledore looked vaguely amused. "Numerous times, I daresay. Sometime, you must remind me to tell you about the day I met Master Ollivander."

Severus tried to imagine an eleven-year-old Dumbledore buying his first wand, and found the feat impossible. Then he realised that Dumbledore had probably not purchased his wand from the _current_ Master Ollivander. In fact, they might have even known each other as children! The thought wreaked havoc with his world view for a moment.

He glanced up at the Headmaster. The man had always seemed unimaginably old to him. While it was true that he hadn't appeared to age at all in the last two decades, he had seemed to be well established across the line of senility even twenty years ago. The slight tilting of the old man's lips alerted Severus to the fact that the Headmaster was probably well aware of what he was thinking. Severus slammed up his Occlumency barriers again with self-conscious chagrin. He _needed_ to learn how to maintain them full time without thinking about it. It was embarrassing and disturbing to him how often both the Headmaster and the Professor casually dipped into his mind.

He realised now, that's what his elder self had done in the hallway. He had brought up good points, but Severus was fairly sure that he had been skimming the doubts off his own mind to play on. It's what he would've done, and that was proof enough, wasn't it?

"Sir, what are we doing here?" Severus asked abruptly.

The Headmaster blinked benignly. "I wanted to check in one of the patients, and I thought you could use the walk," he answered smoothly.

He was lying. Or possibly not, but that wasn't the whole reason. Severus narrowed his eyes at the man.

"Severus!" The shocked exclamation had him whirling around in surprise. Madam Pomfrey's eyes were wide, her face ashen. "What...? How...?" The healer took a deep breath. "This is extraordinary! Did you invent a de-aging potion?"

It nearly killed him to lie to this sweet, elderly woman who had been like a surrogate parent to him. She had fixed his hurts, and let him cry; she had been the only adult at Hogwarts to unwaveringly always support him, believe him when he said he hadn't started the war between himself and the Maurauders. She looked at him with wonder in her eyes now, wonder and pride. It made him ache.

"I'm sorry, Madam, I'm afraid you are mistaken. I'm told I favour my uncle a great deal—"

"Don't you dare lie to me, Severus Snape!" Madam Pomfrey snapped, her face was white, her lips tight with anger. "I have known you almost your entire life. I had you in my ward on a weekly basis for the better part of ten years, and then again this year. I am very well aware of who you are. Frankly, it hurts that you would even _think_ of lying to me."

Severus stared at her for a moment, wide eyed and feeling rather slimy. Surprisingly, he was rescued by the Headmaster.

"You must forgive the boy, Poppy. He has been told that he must not reveal his true identity to _anyone_ at all for any reason." The Headmaster turned and looked at Severus mildly. "An exception can be made, I think, for Healer Pomfrey."

Severus nodded jerkily, and the woman relaxed marginally. She surveyed him with a critical eye. "Your de-aging potion also reverts experience scars? You're missing a few."

Severus' eyes flew to hers, and shook his head quietly. "It isn't a de-aging potion."

She nodded shortly. "What then?"

He explained, and watched her eyes and mouth both get wider as he went.

"My gods." She whispered, and sat down with quite a bit less grace than he was used to seeing in her. "So you really are...you're _my_ little Severus, entirely?" She breathed. "Show me your arm."

Severus wrinkled his brow. "My arm?" Perhaps she wanted to see his broken arm scar. He shoved up the sleeve on his jumper, trying to get it high enough for her to catch sight of the scar that proved irrevocably that he was, indeed, Severus Snape.

"Not that one!" She said impatiently. "I've already said I know who you are. I am probably more familiar with the sight of your compound fracture scar than you are. Your _left_ arm, Severus."

Dumbledore seemed to be chuckling into his hideously braided and beaded beard.

Confused, Severus raised the other arm of his jumper, showing the hospital matron the almost smooth skin there. She twirled a finger, gesturing for him to flip it over, forearm up. He did so.

She sighed, her expression relaxing into one of happiness. "Oh, _Severus."_ She beamed at him, and to his shock, her eyes actually seemed to be brimming with unshed tears. "Oh, my dear, _dear_ boy!" A tear escaped, and suddenly Severus found himself caught up in a fierce hug.

He shot the Headmaster a slightly panicked look. It wasn't the hug; Madam Pomfrey had hugged him before and secretly he had loved the affection. It wasn't as if anyone was _watching_ after all. She was _weeping,_ though. As if he'd come back from the dead. Awkwardly, he patted the woman's shoulder.

The Headmaster saved him _again._ Would wonders never cease? Five years the man had never bothered stepping in, and now twice in one night?

"You do realise, Poppy, that for the sake of Severus' safety, we _must_ behave as if he is a different person entirely. Lord Voldemort must not realise the truth, or he would be in very grave danger." He inclined his head seriously. "Both of him."

Madam Pomfrey stepped away from him and dabbed at her eyes. "It's not going to work, Professor. It simply won't. There are too many people who have known him too long. Look at him! The way he stands, the way he walks. His mannerisms and the phrases and facial expressions he uses. There is no way you are going to be able to hide this. Not here, at Hogwarts. Even if you give him different clothes and cut his hair."

There was silence for a moment. Everyone knew that what she said was true. Even the students, who didn't know him as a teenager would surely recognise how uncannily similar he was to their Potions Master.

"If I may make a suggestion?" It was said timidly from behind them, as if she were certain her input would be entirely unwelcome to the conversation. Severus closed his eyes, resigned. It seemed that even if he tried, he wouldn't be able to really escape the insane Gryffindor.

"Headmaster!" Madam Pomfrey said sharply, as they all turned as one to the bed that the girl now sat up in, propped on what appeared to be a small mountain of pillows.

"It's alright, Poppy." Dumbledore said gently. "Miss Granger has already been made aware of the situation. She has not heard anything new tonight that she shouldn't have."

_That she shouldn't have._ The statement set alarm bells off in his head immediately. Every Slytherin knew that that was the phrase you tacked onto a sentence when you were lying, but calling it the truth based on opinion. Which meant the girl had heard something she hadn't previously known. The Headmaster had simply arbitrarily decided that it was something she _should_ know.

His mind went over their conversation rapidly, and realised that the only thing to have learned that she hadn't already known was how closely his relationship to Madam Pomfrey resembled that of a parent and child. He wasn't embarrassed by Madam Pomfrey, the last thing from it! But he didn't particularly think that was something she should know. What was the crazy old coot _up_ to?

"His teeth, Madam Pomfrey." She swallowed. "I mean...they're very distinctive. Recognisable. Especially because he's got the small gap, and the right incisors are turned a bit from crowding. My parents are dentists, you see. I've _seen_ how much changed dentition can completely affect a person's appearance.

"Even me, for example. The difference between fourth year and now...well, people have absolutely noticed, and we only shaved off a little bit in the front. What if you were to correct his bite entirely? Maybe even put a whitening charm on them? Once you put a haircut on top of that, I doubt he would look remotely recognisable."

Severus narrowed his eyes at her, clamping his jaws shut. He might be a bit self-conscious about his smile, but she wasn't supposed to know that! "My teeth are _perfectly serviceable._ And I _don't_ need a haircut." He ground out.

Madam Pomfrey looked at him knowingly. Of course she had probably figured it out a long time ago. She had offered to straighten his teeth before, and he'd turned her down out of pride. But here, in this new life, where he wasn't already known as a greasy, crooked-toothed git...

"Severus." She said softly. "Of course your teeth are perfectly fine the way they are. Mine are crooked themselves, a bit." She smiled to prove it. "This isn't about your appearance dear, this is about _keeping you alive."_

So she'd decided to go Slytherin on him, too, had she? Give him a way to save face and pride and finally be able to smile with his lips open. It was incredibly thinly veiled, and he wanted it a little too desperately for his liking. He tried to imagine himself as a dashing, brooding hero with a perfect smile, but had a hard time envisioning it.

"Come here, dear." She said, absently, marking a quick silencing ward into the floor around them.

Helplessly, and not nearly as reluctant as he would have people believe—and knowing that they didn't, of course—he stepped closer.

"Wait!" Hermione said from her bed, her voice ringing with sudden realisation.

It was too late. The hospital matron had already grasped his chin and said firmly, _"Emendo Morsus!"_

It _hurt._ It was like all of his teeth were being forcibly removed at once. They shifted, straightened, his jaw bone and roof of his mouth felt like they actually cracked several times. It felt like hours. It was endless agony and someone was going to die for this.

He screamed in pain, unable to contain it. A couple of his back teeth actually did work their way out of his mouth entirely, forced out of place in order to make room as his front teeth straightened and spread out into an even line. He spat the loosened teeth to the ground with a whimpering moan. Then just as suddenly, it was over. He very much wanted to crawl into a little ball of hurt and possibly expire on the floor.

Oh gods, his jaw _ached!_ He tenderly worked his mouth a little, wincing every time his teeth impacted.

Madam Pomfrey calmly handed him a pain potion, and he gulped it, glad for once that he was used to the awful taste of it. She waved her wand at him, casting what was presumably a retaining spell to keep everything from shifting back, followed by a basic quarterly anti-decay spell.

"I _cannot_ believe you just fixed his _entire_ bite without anaesthetising him first!" Hermione said, horrified. "You extracted his second bicuspids and did the equivalent of several years of orthodontia in _ten minutes_ without anaesthesia!" She was looked at Madam Pomfrey with a newly found fear.

"I gave him a pain potion after." She said defensively. "It's not like I haven't fixed a bite before. I _am_ a paediatrician, Miss Granger. Most prefer to have the whole thing over with quickly, and an anaesthetising spell or a healing sleep would not wear off for several hours." She turned to Severus again. "Now, you will be sore for several days, dear. You may want the house-elves to bring you soups and sauces. Also, I'll be giving you some pain relievers for the next week." She banished the teeth and accompanying blood off the floor where they had been spat. "Albus, we need to talk." she said, turning to the older man abruptly. _"Now."_

"Of course." The Headmaster inclined his head and spread an arm in invitation toward her office.

_"Hmmmph."_ The hospital matron gave him a dirty look and stalked off toward the office.

For a moment Severus and Hermione just stared at each other, Hermione with something akin to worry and awe, Severus warily. He worked his jaw again and both of them winced. Hermione held out the glass of water on her bedside table.

"Here. You should rinse and spit, you've got blood on your chin."

Gingerly, he took her offering, and went to one of the wing's nearby sinks. He swished, let it dribble out since spitting would _hurt,_ and repeated the process a couple of times. After, he bared his teeth at himself in the small mirror over the sink, and stared.

And stared.

He looked...he looked...not handsome, or dashing. He was still too tall, skinny, bony, edgy, and greasy. He wouldn't ever be handsome, he suspected. Judging by the appearance of his other self, that suspicion was probably fairly accurate. Yet...he didn't look the same, either. He looked distinctly and very noticeably different with straight, even teeth. She had also fixed the chipped tooth on the upper right, he noticed. The one Black had loosened last year and taken a small gouge out of with the ring he had been wearing.

He looked...just a little less awful. Not that he cared. Not in the slightest. He turned to her abruptly. "I'm not cutting my hair. I don't care if it makes me less recognisable. I'm not doing it. People wouldn't expect me to look like him anyway, and now that this is done," he gestured to his mouth, "no one would come to that conclusion."

"I'm sure no one is going to force you to cut it." Hermione said, smiling slightly. "Have you thought of your new name, yet?"

He shrugged, a little uncomfortably. "I was thinking Vengeance."

Her eyes widened comically. _"Vengeance?!_ That's a _horrible_ name!" She blurted, aghast. "Why not call yourself Targetus or Snarkimus Maximus if you want to be miserable?"

"It's my purpose now! And, like you can talk, _Hermione."_ He snapped at her.

"I didn't get to name myself!" She shot back.

"What would you suggest, then?"

Hermione tilted her head at him. "How about Justice?"

"I'm not a Gryffindork."

She pursed her lips at him. "Sagacis? It means clever."

"I like the idea of it...except I can just see myself getting called 'Saggy Snape.' _Not_ happening."

"Argentius? It means silvered."

"That makes me sound _old._ Not even my other self has silver, yet."

"I just thought you'd like the Slytherin House reference." She said mildly. "Callidus, than."

"I'd rather not be 'Cal' either. I'd really rather not have a name that can be shortened at all."

"Now you're just being difficult." She frowned at him.

"This is what I'm going to answer to for probably the rest of my life! I should be allowed to be difficult."

"Why? I didn't get to be difficult about Hermione."

"Well, you make up for it now."

"You arse!" Hermione chucked a pillow at him, hitting him squarely in the face.

It _hurt._ Severus let out a decidedly unmanly sounding shriek, and clutched his hands over his still sore jaw and mouth. His eyes watered, and she was instantly contrite.

"Severus! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry, I forgot! Sorry!"

He glared at her. "Bitch." He accused, not putting a lot of heat behind it, for some reason, he believed she really was sorry. She looked so guilty and upset. She actually looked worried that he would leave or something. How long had it been since that had happened? If she was faking at wanting to be his friend, she was a phenomenal actress. Especially since no one faking it would probably deliberately sabotage their plan by hitting him with the pillow.

She winced. "I know, I am. I'm sorry! I honestly did forget!" She waited a moment. "You should be Atreus."

"What does that mean?"

"Fearless. Also he's a Greek mythological character. The King of Mycenae. I thought it would be especially clever because Severus is not only a characteristic, but a Roman emperor."

"I told you, I'm not—"

"—a Gryffindor, I know. But, well, you are. Fearless, I mean. And courage and being fearless aren't the same thing, really. Courage is doing it even if you're scared. Fearlessness...that's just not being scared. I could never have worked up the nerve to fix my bite without anaesthetic. Or testing a potion no one ever had before. Or pick a new name and live in a new house with classmates. Or...what the other you does. You know."

"You've thought about my name more than I have." Severus glanced at the girl wryly.

She shrugged. "I've had better access to the Latin and Greek dictionaries. We could go French, if you like."

"No, I'm not French, so it'd just look silly. Besides, my accent's awful. So's yours."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "So I'm told. It's not like I get to practice much." She steered him back on topic. "How about this? You can be Atreus Sagacis. No one would use your middle name for taunting."

"My initials would be ASS." He retorted.

"Kinda fits." She replied, and then sighed. "Atreus Callidus Snape?"

He mulled it over. Fearless and cunning. Skillful. And a king. He _did_ like the sound of that.

"Atreus Callidus." He let it roll around in his mouth a bit, then nodded. "I think...I think so."

"Damn sight better than Vengeance, anyway."

_"Hey!"_

"Well, _you're_ the one who didn't want to be made fun of."

He made a face at her.

"Severus? Time to leave and let Miss Granger get her rest. She may not look like it, but she is fairly injured right now." The Headmaster called to him softly.

"Injured, my arse." He muttered under his breath, remembering her pillow.

Severus lifted a shoulder and brow in farewell to the girl, and turned to face the two adults staring at him. Dumbledore looked as cool as ever, Madam Pomfrey still a bit shell-shocked to see him. "Professor? Do you think I might have a minute with Madam Pomfrey?" He asked slowly.

Dumbledore waved a benign hand. "Of course. Don't stay up too late. I trust you can find your own way back to your rooms?"

It was hard for Severus' jaw not to drop. The Headmaster had just given him permission to stay up as late as he liked and roam the castle! Like Severus was one of his pet students. He managed a quick, uneasy smile, and followed the hospital matron into her office.

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><p><em>AN: Thanks for reading, please review. :-) Also, there is a poll on my profile, would be much obliged for your opinions._

_I had atrocious teeth as a child, and was horribly self-conscious about it. Despite the discomfort, I was pleased as a House Elf with ironing to do when I got my braces. I now work in a combination dental/orthodontic office. You will have to forgive me for the indulgence of fixing Severus' bite. Especially since it's for his own safety. :-D_

_Again, I would like to acknowledge __**immyownsuperman**__, for choosing the winning name Atreus. Several awesome names were submitted, some of them have been used (Special thanks to DMK, SusanmarieR, Kerr Avonsen, and Mon Petite Princesse)._

_Apologies to the two names removed from voting—one because the name was too well known as another writer's OCC, the other because the poster did not leave a name to possibly dedicate to. No offense was meant to either one of you. The list previously posted of all submissions has now been removed, but if you are interested in seeing it, just let me know and I'll send it to you._


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary:** A time travel story. When fifth-year Severus Snape tries to create a forward time-travelling philter to prove his worthiness to Lord Voldemort, he is disappointed to find that his creation is worthless. Or is it?

**Disclaimer:** All recognizable characters and fictional places do not belong to me; I am merely borrowing them for playtime before (respectfully) putting them back. Thank you, JKR, for allowing such things to happen.

**Pairings/Main Characters** Hermione Granger and Severus Snape, the other Severus Snape. A cast of other canon characters and couple of OFCs as well.

**Warnings:** This story is rated NC-17/MA, and it is not suitable for children under age 18. It is Alternate Universe, and includes strong language, lemons (graphic sex), violence and mention of violence/torture, unresolved sexual tension, and major character death.

**Thank You:** To the village that has raised this baby over the course of several chapters: Roo, Tom Without, Allee, Lauren, Nathaniel Cardeau and ThornedHuntress. Additional thanks to my current amazing "Team Tyche," who have listened to me bounce ideas and have cleaned up my writing, making this story so, so much more than it would have been otherwise: Dragoon811, BSC_AG, AdelaideArcher and Stgulik.

A thousand further thank yous to the extremely talented SusanMarieR, who created the official banner and cover art for this piece.

* * *

><p><strong>SEVERUS, REDUX<strong>_**  
><strong>_**By: TycheSong**

* * *

><p><em>Chapter Dedication: You may thank the lovely <em>_**Tom Without A Turkey**__ for this chapter, to whom it is dedicated, and could greatly use some cheering up. You may rest assured that without her, it very likely would not have been written for at least another month or three. Loves, hun, and thanks!_

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Nine:<strong>_ (In which there are several strange conversations)_

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, 19 June 1996, 02:36 AM_

"Hsssssst. Hermione!"

Hermione started, and whipped her head to the right, where the allegedly sleeping Ginny Weasley lay, not asleep in the slightest.

"Ginny!" Hermione stage whispered across the open space between their beds. "What are you doing awake?"

"Never mind that!" Came hissing back with an impatient wave. "Was that _really_ Professor _Snape?"_

"Ginny, you are _not_ supposed to know about that!"

"Oh, Holy Holyhead Harpies, it _is?_ Like, _really, really?"_ The other girl shook her head incredulously. "My brothers are going to shite kneazle kittens when they find out!"

_"Ginny!_ You _can't_ tell anyone. He could get _killed_ if you do. We have to keep this a secret." Hermione glared sternly at the other girl. "And did you seriously just swear by a Quidditch team?"

"This is _so_ bigger than just Merlin or the Founders." Ginny waved dismissively again. "Okay, I can see not telling Ron, if for his mental health's sake alone, but do you really expect me to not tell the _twins_ that forward time travel is possible? They would _never_ forgive me."

"Not if they don't know!"

"Hermione Granger, they _always_ know, somehow."

"Not this time, they don't. Ginny, it's too important."

"You don't think people are going to figure it out on their own?"

"They better not! He's changed his appearance, his name, is switching houses, all so that he stays hidden in plain sight. Please, Ginny, you have to keep quiet about this!"

"Fine, alright, alright! But you are explaining _everything."_

"That's the thing, Gin, I don't know. I know as much as you, really. He created some sort of potion that sent a replica of himself into the future." Hermione shrugged helplessly. "I don't think _anyone_ knows more than that right now, including _him."_

"So he _says."_

"What do mean by that?"

"Well, this is him before he turned, right? Can we even trust him?"

"Dumbledore does, and so does the real Professor Snape." Hermione chose her words carefully. "Voldemort killed someone important to him, that's why he changed his mind and joined the Order. So when Professors Dumbledore and Snape told him that it had happened, he didn't even hesitate." She paused. "I think he's trustworthy."

There was a long silence. Then Ginny said, "Do you think he'd help me with my Potions homework? Professor Snape can't find anything wrong then, can he?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Ginny, you're not even supposed to know he exists, yet. When you get introduced properly, then you can try to make friends. Once you find out the new student is good at Potions, _then_ you can ask. Although, I'm not sure how far that'll get you. He's not incredibly fond of Gryffindors."

"Not joining our house in the switch, then?" Ginny asked dryly.

"I honestly think he'd commit suicide first."

"Ravenclaw then. There's no way he'd pass for a Hufflepuff."

Hermione shrugged. "Yes...though I do think he has stronger loyalty instincts than you think."

"Their loyalty is all family-ish, not soldier to a captain-ish. _He_ doesn't strike me as remotely familial."

Hermione shrugged, thinking Ginny must have woken up after the scene with Madam Pomfrey. The motion caused pain to arch from her abdomen to up under her ribs, and Hermione grimaced, laying a protective hand over her side.

The door handle to Madame Pomfrey's office rattled, and like a flash, Ginny was "asleep," again. Hermione blinked in surprise at the transformation, watching as Ginny went from animated to comatose, her mouth lolling and her breath wheezing in an even not-quite-snore. She was very good. She must fake being asleep on a regular basis, Hermione realised.

Severus and Madam Pomfrey emerged from the office a moment later, the teenager's brow furrowed in a slightly disturbed expression. He started towards Hermione, only to be halted by the hospital matron. "She needs to _rest,_ Severus."

"Atreus. You should start calling me that now; get into the habit of it. I need to learn to respond to it, too."

"Fine, _Atreus._ Hermione needs to rest; you should go to bed, too."

"I only have a couple questions, I promise."

"Se—_Atreus."_ It was said warningly.

"Please? I promise it will only be a moment or so," he said earnestly.

Madam Pomfrey pursed her lips, and waited a moment. "Two minutes." She said deliberately. "No more."

He nodded shortly, and approached Hermione's bed.

"She says you're the reason why _she's_ here." He nodded his head at the supine form of Dolores Umbridge, on the other side of Ginny's bed. "She says you lured her out into the Forbidden Forest to get abducted by centaurs."

Hermione mouthed a quick _careful_ at him, shooting her eyes deliberately toward Ginny.

Severus' eyes jumped to the "sleeping" girl minutely, and he gave a little nod to show he understood before arching his brows deliberately at her, waiting for an answer.

Hermione tilted her head back and forth—the closest she could get to shrugging without pain, and said aloud, "She just offered that up, did she?"

"I asked her directly her opinion of you. She had a great deal to say."

"You asked her about me? Why?"

"I trust her judgment."

"And what conclusion has she led you to, then?"

"I'd like to know about _that_ situation before I decide." He answered, nodding at the still form of Dolores Umbridge. "You apparently threw her to the centaurs?"

Hermione shrugged. "That wasn't the _original_ intention; I was actually taking her to a giant that I happened to know was in there. The centaurs found us first though, and she did the rest on her own, from there."

"A _giant?_ How's that _any_ better? I can't believe you were ready to just give her to a giant and get carried off by centaurs, knowing what those sort usually—"

"But they _didn't._ There's _no_ physical evidence that they did."

"That's not the point! You wouldn't have known!" Severus eyed her, clearly disturbed.

"We're at war." Hermione said, as expressionlessly as she could. "Maybe you haven't realised yet what that means; how it really is right now. People are being tortured, are dying. That woman was about to _Crucio_ Harry, and has been abusing _children_ all year. She was standing in the way of what we thought was a rescue attempt of an Order member from Death Eaters. Someone had to take her out of the way, and I wouldn't have been sad if it had been permanently."

His lips twisted sardonically. "So the ends justify the means, then?" Severus stared at her steadily.

Hermione lifted her chin, and gazed just as steadily back. "You're the Slytherin; you tell me."

They held each other's stares for a moment, and then he gave a short nod, changing the subject abruptly. "Why the flower? The book, I get," he paused, and added reluctantly, "and I really appreciate it—it was a very interesting read. But why the flower?" He gave her a slightly disgusted look. "You know I don't believe for a moment that you...are interested in me." He grimaced a little.

Hermione felt her lips quirk in embarrassment, and tipped her head to the side. "Have you ever read _Le Petit Prince,_ by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry?" When he shook his head, she continued. "My _grand-mére_ used to read it to me when I was little. I practically learned French from it like a primer. You should see if the library has it; it's a quite popular children's book in English, too."

He huffed out a breath. "What does it have to do with the flower?"

Hermione smiled at him mysteriously, and tilted her head to the side again. "I would've gotten you a fox, but I couldn't get you one on short notice."

He stared at her expectantly.

Hermione laughed. "I guess you're going to have to read it someday and find out, won't you?"

He growled under his breath. "You're really infuriating, you know that?"

Hermione smiled. "You _were_ warned. _The_ most insufferable, _annoying_ creature to _ever_ come across your path, remember?"

He rolled his eyes at her. "So what happened to you, anyway?"

"I got cursed." Hermione lifted her eyebrows in the international sign of _duh._

Severus gave an exasperated _tsk,_ and ground out, "Well, _obviously._ What _kind_ of curse?"

Hermione shrugged. "I don't know. Dolohov was _Silencio'd_ at the time. It slashed," she carefully demonstrated the arm movement, wincing a bit as she did, "and had purple fire." As an afterthought, she added, "and it really, really hurts."

"Dolohov? Antonin Dolohov?"

Hermione wrinkled her brow at him. "Yes, why?"

Severus shrugged slightly. "I knew his daughter in school. She was nice to me, occasionally."

"Oh, yes, I forgot about that. Blonde, right? Really good at Charms and Arithmancy?"

"Yes! You knew her?"

Hermione shook her head. "Her daughter, I think, if it's the same woman. Luna's never actually told me her mum's name. I don't know much about her honestly, only that she looked a lot like Luna, was good at Charms and Arithmancy, and died when one of her spells went wrong. You'll meet Luna, I'm sure. She was with us tonight. She's a Ravenclaw, a year below us. Bit of an odd one, but still."

There was a short, slightly uncomfortable silence.

"I should go." Severus muttered.

"Will I see you tomorrow at all?" Hermione wondered.

The other teenager hunched his shoulders. "I don't know." He muttered. "Maybe." He glanced at her appraisingly once more, then whirled and exited the hospital wing. Hermione had a sudden mental image of swirling robes and cloak, and had to stifle a giggle. He'd been practicing, she thought. He wasn't nearly so awkward looking as even only a few days ago. The movement didn't look quite right without the appropriate flowing bits.

She glanced over at Ginny, who was still affecting sleep. "Ginny! You still awake?"

The other girl didn't respond, and let out another soft wheezing breath.

"Ginny, he's gone! It's okay!"

No response. Hermione blinked. Had the other girl actually fallen back asleep? Hermione waited another beat, and then snuggled back into her pillows. The day had felt _years_ long...

* * *

><p><em>Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, 19 June 1996, 06:04 AM<em>

She awoke sometime later for no obvious reason; that unnamed sixth sense setting the back of her neck tingling and nervous alarms off in her head. She waited for a moment, still, and when nothing immediately happened, twisted slightly to look out the nearest of the massive, arched windows.

It took her a moment to pick out the constellations she was seeing; they had moved significantly enough that it had probably been four hours or so since Severus—Atreus—had been there. It was most likely nearly morning—the castle would probably be waking up soon for breakfast. Hermione settled back into the bed, and closed her eyes again, attempting to go back to sleep for a few more hours. She was about to give up and resign herself to the fact that she just simply wasn't sleepy at this point, when the door to the hospital wing creaked.

Hermione cracked her eyelids and peered through the blurry fringe of her lashes, as Professor Snape stomped more quietly into the room than she would have imagined possible in dragonhide boots. He was shaking slightly, she noticed, and limping a little, trying to ease the weight on his left leg.

As if on cue, Madam Pomfrey suddenly appeared from her office. There must be a connecting door into her chambers as well, Hermione noted. She had clearly been awoken, as evidenced by her night dress and old fashioned cap, her usually neatly put up hair was hanging in a long, loose braid down her back.

"Severus, you're back. The Headmaster said you might not make it until morning." She hurried over, a potion in one hand, her wand in another.

"No, I'm fine. I said _I'm fine. Stop touching me._ I was under for barely ten minutes this time. He wasn't really displeased with me. I did I was supposed to, as far as he was concerned. Lucius, though...he nearly killed Lucius tonight." The Professor sat one of the unoccupied beds with a soft grunt. "You'll want to keep an extra eye out for Draco. He has a habit of taking out his displeasure on people's family and dearest friends."

He glared moodily at the floor before glancing back up. "How are they?"

Madam Pomfrey gave him a sympathetic smile. "Mostly fine. Miss Weasley will be here another day or so. Miss Granger quite a bit longer. I'm afraid she was hit pretty thoroughly. She had a very unusual visitor earlier, however, and I think she felt better for it."

He growled. Hermione very nearly didn't catch her mouth from dropping open. Severus Snape actually _growled._ Standing, he started pacing a few short steps, stomping and muttering under his breath angrily.

Madam Pomfrey watched in amusement for a while, then said circumspectly, "You're still fighting?"

He shot her a furious look.

"You didn't know, then."

"No. No, I bloody well didn't. Or about today, either, and I bloody well should have been told. It was Sirius Black in the Shrieking Shack, all over again. How am I supposed to keep everything balanced if I don't have all the information available to me?" He hissed at her.

"Be fair, Severus. You're not the only one who has to juggle a difficult balancing act. One misstep, and you might know too much for everything to fall in line correctly. Everyone in this situation is walking on very thin ice. Give it time." She soothed.

Professor Snape grunted, and Hermione fought to keep her brow from furrowing. Was the hospital matron referring to Professor Dumbledore, or another spy, perhaps?

Madam Pomfrey paused, then laid a hand on his arm. "It was good to see you that age again. You were a lot more carefree."

"I was an idiotic brat."

Madam Pomfrey laughed softly. "Severus, surely you know by now that most teenagers are. I fixed your teeth, today."

Professor Snape shot a glance at the older woman. "My teeth are perfectly serviceable."

The hospital matron actually snorted in laughter. "Your happy other-self said the same exact thing. It was purely for concealment purposes, according to them, I promise."

"Them?"

"It was Miss Granger's idea, actually."

Professor Snape was impassive for a moment, clearly thinking, then said reluctantly. "How did it look?"

Madam Pomfrey smiled. "Good, Severus. Someone who doesn't know you as well wouldn't have seen it, I wager, but you were very pleased with the result. Obviously, doing anything about it now would negate the point, but when this is all over, you should consider letting me do yours."

The Professor paused so briefly it was almost an illusion, then snorted derisively in answer.

"Well," Madam Pomfrey responded mildly, "at least wait until you see it for yourself and think it over. He's apparently the original reason, after all."

Hermione could have screamed with frustration. Why weren't they talking more _clearly?_ What she wouldn't give to have some of these cryptic statements explained! Clearly there was more going on to the whole situation than met the eye, and possibly more people involved than she imagined.

"Yes." Professor Snape finally said, a little bitterly. _"He's_ the reason. I wonder now if it was ever about me?"

"Oh, Severus. Of course it was. It always has been. You're still the same person, after all, just in a different situation. You have the chance to be free, here."

"Then what _changed?_ Why bother with me at all?"

"I don't know. Perhaps that's the first question you should ask. It might clear up a lot of the problems you're having right now."

To Hermione's surprise, the Professor glanced over at her, then got up and actually walked over to her bedside. Hastily, she slid her cracked eyelids the rest of the way closed, listening to his approach, and tried to even out her breathing the way Ginny had effortlessly feigned sleep earlier. There was a pause, and she could actually feel the Professor staring down at her.

"What happened to her?" He asked. "How close was it?"

"Very close. I had to be a bit creative with this one, I haven't seen it before. She couldn't hear the incantation, but she said it manifested in the form of purple fire. It didn't leave any marks."

"Dolohov." The Professor said quietly, his voice hard. "That's one of his favorites. You'll want to check out her appendix."

"She's been complaining of pain in her ribs, and her shoulder."

"She was just in a fight with several Death Eaters. She likely has more than a little internal bruising that is unrelated. Or it could even be referred pain, but I know that hex, and you should check her appendix."

"I'll do that when she wakes up; poor thing has had a long night." They were quiet for a moment longer. "He asked her about Dolores Umbridge and the centaurs."

"And what did she say?"

"That we were at war, and she wouldn't have regretted it if the woman had been permanently removed."

To Hermione's shock, the Professor let out a low chuckle. "Good girl."

Madam Pomfrey huffed in soft laughter as well. "I thought you'd like that. Will you please let me help you? Just because you _can_ bear ten minutes of _Cruciatus_ after-shocks doesn't mean you _have_ to."

The Professor sighed. "It really isn't that bad, Poppy, really. Honestly, my trick knee is hurting more. The _Cruciatus_ always makes it act up again, and we already know there isn't really anything you can do about that.

"Go home then, and take a mild pain potion and ice it. Try to work things out, hmm?"

There was a quiet disparaging huff, then Hermione heard their footsteps receding.

Long after the Professor left and Madam Pomfrey went back to bed, Hermione lay awake, replaying the conversation in her head.

* * *

><p><em>AN: Happy Summer Solstice, all!_

_I am very sorry for the rather awful delay of this chapter. It took me a while to write and finish because I was hung up on a plot point later in the story, and didn't think it was a good idea to continue until it was sorted. Hopefully, now that it has, Severus, Redux will swim right along and pick up more momentum._

_The Little Prince is a lovely children's novella. If you have never read The Little Prince, and would like to, there is a link on my profile._ :-)


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary:** A time travel story. When fifth-year Severus Snape tries to create a forward time-travelling philter to prove his worthiness to Lord Voldemort, he is disappointed to find that his creation is worthless. Or is it?

**Disclaimer:** All recognizable characters and fictional places do not belong to me; I am merely borrowing them for playtime before (respectfully) putting them back. Thank you, JKR, for allowing such things to happen.

**Pairings/Main Characters** Hermione Granger and Severus Snape, the other Severus Snape. A cast of other canon characters and couple of OFCs as well.

**Warnings:** This story is rated NC-17/MA, and it is not suitable for children under age 18. It is Alternate Universe, and includes strong language, lemons (graphic sex), violence and mention of violence/torture, unresolved sexual tension, and major character death.

**Thank You:** To the village that has raised this baby over the course of several chapters: Roo, Tom Without, Allee, Lauren, Nathaniel Cardeau and ThornedHuntress. Additional thanks to my current amazing "Team Tyche," who have listened to me bounce ideas and have cleaned up my writing, making this story so, so much more than it would have been otherwise: Dragoon811, BSC_AG, AdelaideArcher and Stgulik.

A thousand further thank yous to the extremely talented SusanMarieR, who created the official banner and cover art for this piece.

* * *

><p><strong>SEVERUS, REDUX<strong>_**  
><strong>_**By: TycheSong**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Ten:<strong> _(In which the two Severii bond and Hermione makes a request)_

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, 26 June 1996, 1:15 PM_

Four days after the Hogwarts Express had removed the vast majority of the castle's population, Severus entered the potions classroom with enough force that the door actually banged against the opposite wall. The sound made him jump slightly and caused the professor to look up from the table he was working at, with an annoyed expression.

_"Must_ you behave like such an adolescent?"

Severus stared at him with amused incredulity.

"Don't respond to that." The professor's lip curled caustically and he returned to his work, ignoring Severus once more.

Severus meandered over, interested, dropping his book bag onto a random table on the way. "What are you making? Something interesting?"

The professor gave him a harassed look and snorted softly. "Hardly. One of the anti-inflammatory potions Madam Pomfrey has Miss Granger on. Here. Make yourself useful, if you're going to be in here. And stop talking so much." He drew a mortar across the table in Severus' direction and motioned to continue grinding.

The sound of the marble scraping against the granite work table was comforting in an odd way and Severus happily took up the pestle and began to obliterate the dehydrated vampire teeth. After a moment, "You know, I've often wondered _why_ dehydrated vampire teeth were used in so many anti-inflammatories. You'd think it would be the opposite, with the anticoagulant properties. They're too expensive for me to experiment with, though, and the potions books I've found don't explain _why,_ only that they're needed."

The Potions Master looked up at his younger self and arched an annoyed eyebrow.

Severus ducked his head. "Sorry. Of course you knew about that. So what _is_ the answer?"

The professor was quiet for a moment. Severus waited, recognizing the signs of when he was counting. He _hated_ it when people tried to talk to him while he was counting stirs. The professor got to his forty-second stir without incident and responded. "It isn't the teeth themselves; it's the reaction they have with the dragon blood."

Severus thought about it for a minute and then nodded when it suddenly became clear. "That makes sense. I knew that the blood was the reason why you have to turn the heat down, but I never thought about how it would react with the teeth. That's why you need doxy wings, too!" Severus realised, pausing for a moment.

The professor was nodding slightly.

Severus knit his brows. "There has to be a better way to bond them though. Doxy wings and dragon blood is a horribly acidic combination. If you stabilised it with an attractant instead..." Severus trailed off, muttering under his breath.

The professor actually had a small smile curling the edges of his mouth as he nodded now. Severus felt himself smile in return, realising that his older self had already worked out the same problem, and Severus was now on the correct train of thought.

"Rose petals?" He guessed.

A slight head shake.

"Ashwinder eggs, even frozen, would only make it worse," Severus thought aloud. "Too reactive. There's already dragon blood. Though I suppose," Severus continued, "if you removed the dragon blood and used the eggs to react with the teeth _and_ to stabilise the base..." He thought a moment more, staring sightlessly into his mortar where the vampire teeth were rapidly becoming a fine powder. "The potion would be more stable, but I just don't think it would _work_ as well."

His elder self pursed his lips and calmly added turmeric to his caldron, waiting.

Severus groaned suddenly, realising. "Moonstone." He shook his head. "I feel like an idiot. Bolsters the blood, bonds with the teeth. Wouldn't gum it all up the way Veela tears would."

The professor actually smiled more broadly and nodded toward a small jar to the side of his cauldron. Already knowing what he would find, Severus lifted the lid and mentally congratulated himself in satisfaction at the sight of the iridescent white dust within.

"That isn't all, of course. Otherwise it would have been done a long time ago. Moonstone stabilises nicely, and bonds well with the teeth, but not as evenly with the blood. It tends to make the potion break too early in the heat. You have to also use a bit of honey and stir a lot more often and vigorously."*

"Honey? Really? I never thought of that."

"Sweetens it, too."

"Huh. She'll be glad of that, I suppose."

His elder self snorted. "I doubt she's known anything else. It's standard for Hogwarts potions."

Oh. Of course. There was a slightly awkward pause, and Severus fiddled with a particularly stubborn chunk of tooth that kept escaping from his pestle.

"So she's been whining about her potions and hospital stay, has she?" The question was rather artfully disinterested and slightly scathing. Severus _knew_ that tone. His older self was very much interested in the answer—and just as interested in keeping that interest discreet. It was something for him to think about, later. Why the professor would be interested in the thoughts and moods of a student he clearly disliked was a mystery that would certainly be worth knowing the answer to.

In the meantime however, the professor was still waiting for an answer, and Severus would rather not let on that he had recognised that there was an actual question behind the question. He wouldn't be able to respond in kind—if he had noticed the tactic in the professor, the older man would surely recognise it in him.

Severus considered the Gryffindor girl for a moment, trying to decide how to answer. The truth was she _had_ been: she was an _awful_ patient. They had taken to playing various games in the evening, but until today she had been on bed rest and getting more unbearable to be around by the day. She had also seemed to be spending more and more time in her own head, as if working on an arithmantic equation she was unwilling to share.

Severus finally settled on answering by changing the topic slightly. "She seems to think her predicament would have been easier to fix the Muggle way. You know, cutting her open and removing the offending organ entirely instead of healing it."

The professor's expression didn't change, but he clearly saw right through the ploy, and responded dryly, "An hour or so operation, a week or so recovering instead of three, is that it?"

Severus shrugged.

"Except of course, the Muggle doctor wouldn't be able to use any of his fancy equipment around her," he reminded his younger self, scathingly. "The _only_ reason we were able to get our arm set was because we were too young for our magic to properly interfere with the Muggle equipment. She spends summers at home; you would think she would know better." He shook his head. There was silence for a long moment, then, "You've been spending...a great deal of time with her."

Severus looked back at him cautiously. The last thing he wanted to do was set the professor off again. They seemed to be finally getting along and he was damned scary at thirty-six. He was rather looking forward to having that sort of presence, but until he perfected it, the receiving end was less than pleasant. "She's been...decent, and I don't think she's faking it. Like Giselle, but less poetry. I think less manipulation too, but I'm not…I'm still not sure I completely trust her."

The professor snorted. "She's a Gryffindor. That should tell you all you need to know." He suited action to his earlier words, and set the stirring rod to a brisk pace.

Severus shrugged again and gave the contents of his mortar a dubious look. "This doesn't look like enough for the size batch you're making." Many potions were adaptable if one knew what one was doing, but the teeth were not something that could be shorted in an anti-inflammatory.

The professor swore softly and glanced quickly toward the mortar that Severus tipped in his direction.

"I usually only need four, but the jar I ordered seems to have smaller teeth than usual. I was hoping that the usual number would be enough, but I'm not surprised it isn't. Grab another; they're in the back on the third shelf."

"You've rearranged the cupboard."

"There isn't a professional lab, shop or apothecary in the world that stores components alphabetically. Convenience and tolerance of idiots is no reason to neglect teaching proper classification."

Severus nodded as he headed for the cupboard. He had often had the exact thought in school. It would be interesting, learning potions from himself. He would be an imminently trustworthy source to learn from. The older Severus would understood his methodology and meticulousness in a way no-one else could; his integrity to the art of it and not just slapping components together.

_I wonder if he will be easier on me as a student or more exacting because I_ am _him?_ Severus mused as he hunted for the teeth. He had to search for a moment before he found them; even knowing proper classifications he was still used to this particular cupboard being improperly ordered.

Not to mention, it still _wasn't_ properly ordered. It had started out that way at one point, clearly, but over the last year the students had wreaked havoc on it. Maybe he should slip in here at some point and fix it? Without even realizing he was doing it, he absently moved a jar of distilled witch hazel oil back to its proper place and slid it further back on the shelf.

He actually missed the classroom door opening and was only alerted to the fact that he and the professor had been joined by his elder's disinterested and caustic voice.

"I doubt Madam Pomfrey would consider traipsing down the stairs and into my classroom to be 'properly resting,' Miss Granger."

Severus glanced at the open cupboard door between himself and the classroom with surprise. Was she looking for him? He didn't think she would be actively seeking out the professor, after all.

"No, sir." Her voice sounded a little tired. "I'm sure you are correct, but I-I had some questions for you, if I may?"

"No."

"But, sir—"

The professor grimaced. "I am not going to tell you how to manipulate my younger self or tell you stories of my childhood or whatever it is you want, Miss Granger."

"I'm _not_ here about—!" She heaved an audible sigh and began again, the emotions in her voice clearly in tight reign. "I would like to know about some spells, sir. Please? It's important." Her voice wavered at first, but firmed as she went on.

The only indication that the man heard her was the slightest arching of a dark brow, but Severus couldn't help but feel that his older self was surprised by her statement. He continued to ignore her for a moment and then answered dismissively, "I am not your charms teacher, Miss Granger."

"No. You aren't. But you were teaching Harry Occlumency, earlier this year, sir. Professor Dumbledore had you teaching Harry; not himself, and not Professor Flitwick. Which means you must be very skilled at it. I don't believe Professor Dumbledore would leave something so important to someone less able than he is."

"As I recall, Potter failed to listen. That is how you idiots got into the mess at the Ministry. " He seemed almost angry now, dumping another measured component into his cauldron with almost violent bangs as he rapped it against the side. "I suppose you want me to teach you Occlumency now?" His scathing sneer informed her exactly how unlikely that was.

"No. Well, yes, I do. It would be a very handy skill to have, especially since you're supposed to be so good at it, but I honestly wasn't looking for lessons... not in that."

"Then _what is it,_ Miss Granger?" His annoyance had seeped into his voice now and the glare he gave her would have had most men cowering, Severus wagered.

Hermione stammered for a moment and then tilted her chin, stubbornly, and responded. "Memory charms, sir."

"Memory charms." His voice had gone back to unreadable.

"Yes, Professor." She took a deep breath, her curls shaking slightly. "Sir, you are the most qualified person I can think of to ask; memory charms are not like duelling or household conveniences. They are more akin to Occlumency and Legilimency than anything else."

"You believe I will teach you memory charms? Those are illegal, Miss Granger." His voice was a menacing silken whisper. "I highly suggest you leave now. You wouldn't want to give the wrong impression."

Hermione ignored his statement and sat down at one of the tables in front of him, sighing a little. "Sir, you are aware of the dangers that my family could be unwittingly facing right now, given my…position here in the magical world. I would like to learn a memory charm to send them to a safe place. Their knowledge isn't valuable if it isn't there." Her expression was sad. "I would not normally push you this far, but this…it's too important. Please, sir? I know I don't really have any resources of use to you, but if there is something I can trade or do?"

The professor's face twisted cynically. "Be careful what you say. That could be taken entirely inappropriately," he ground out derisively.

She looked confused for a moment, then horrified embarrassment stole over her cheeks in a dark red flush. "I didn't mean…sir, I'm sorry, I wasn't trying to offer—"

"I am aware." He cut her off, the disdain on the professor's face more apparent than Severus thought was strictly true. _Curiouser and curiouser._ The line from Alice's Adventures in Wonderland flitted through his head and Severus found himself wondering again just _what_ the older man's true opinion and motivation toward Hermione was.

The professor studied her for a long moment. "Here is what I will offer, Miss Granger," he said, his expression closed. "You tell me what your intentions are toward my younger self and I may answer your questions."

"My…my intentions?" She seemed confused.

"Your intentions." He made a show of peering into the marble mortar and Severus was abruptly reminded that the potion would likely be ruined without the teeth he currently held. _Shit._ The professor abruptly turned toward the storeroom, leaving Hermione gaping at the table. Once he was within, he gave his teenaged self a measured stare, and held out his palm.

Severus hunched further behind the door, completely obliterating his view of the girl. He handed the older man the jar he had collected and silently prayed, to whatever higher power there might be, that she wouldn't confess to using him. He knew it was probably inevitable, and tried to ruthlessly squash his hopes, but all the same, he couldn't help but clench a fistful of his robes tightly.

Hermione's voice was angry as the man returned with his jar. "Professor, I'm _not_ an idiot. His bag's on the table."

"You _are_ an idiot. Someone more intelligent would have pretended and said what the boy wanted to hear so that you could get your answers."

_"You're_ not an idiot, sir, and we've just discussed your proficiency in matters of the mind. Pretending any sort of ignorance around you _would be_ idiocy." She countered.

"Quite." The professor's soft voice carried a soft edge, and the slightest hint of pleased amusement. "Atreus?"

Awkwardly, Severus emerged from the storeroom, his eyes darting between the professor and the girl. She had as good as admitted that she had an agenda. Otherwise why would she call what he "wanted to hear" a pretence? It shouldn't have hurt. It really shouldn't have, because he honestly did know better than to think someone would just want to be his friend. It stung a little anyway.

"Alright. Now that both of you are out in the open and none of us is trying to deceive anyone else," Hermione started, "I have been keeping company with Severus for a variety of reasons. First, because I am intrigued to know what you were like at my age." She turned her gaze to Severus and locked eyes with him.

"Second, we have intelligent and amusing conversation. It's not always whinging or about Quidditch, or asking me for homework favours." Her eyes turned back to the professor and finished. "Lastly, we're fighting a war and could use all the help we can get. I would rather he was on our side because he wants to be, not because he wants to be on the opposite side of Voldemort."

"What if my stipulation for teaching you how to protect your family was staying away from him?"

Well. That was certainly direct. Not that her answer would really matter. If she truly wished to be his friend there were ways, regardless of deals. Not to mention enforcement, once she had what she wanted, would draw far too much attention to him for the professor's liking. The question itself was ridiculous.

To his surprise, she didn't point any of this out however, and instead said, "I…I would do so." She gave Severus an apologetic look. "I like you, really, I do. But…it's my _parents' lives._ I would do far worse and more hurtful things to friends I've had longer to ensure their safety, and that of those dependent on their knowledge staying secret. I hope…I hope you understand?"

The professor snorted and lifted a brow at Severus. "See what I mean? Gryffindors are hopeless—the lot of them."

Severus tipped his head in accession, but responded, "Still, it's the correct answer if one were to take as read."

"I can't believe I was ever as impossibly naïve as you are." The professor shook his head, frowning.

"Correct answer?" Hermione's voice rose slightly. "Is this really some sort of game to you both?"

"She's terrible at chess, too. This wasn't so bad a showing, actually." Severus goaded, ignoring her to speak directly to his older self.

The faintest hint of amusement entered the older man's eyes again. "I know." His expression closed again, and turned back toward the girl, who was looking angrier and angrier by the second. "Miss Granger, you will come here at four o'clock each afternoon for the remainder of your stay at Hogwarts, and we will discuss the _theory_ of mental guards and charms."

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><p><em>AN: *Honey will not in any way help keep your soups and sauces from breaking. I made that up entirely. The vigorous stirring, however, will. _

_Thank you all for your incredible patience and for sticking with me; it's been one thing after another with me._

_I am currently without a final beta/Brit-Picker for this chapter, as my usual one has been unavailable lately, and all mistakes are entirely my own. I did not want to wait any longer to post, however, as you have all been kept waiting for quite a while already! I am going to be looking for someone to take over the final beta/BP position, and it will hopefully not take long to find a good fit. I really appreciate all of you taking the time to read-please review. :-) -Tyche_


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary:** A time travel story. When fifth-year Severus Snape tries to create a forward time-travelling philter to prove his worthiness to Lord Voldemort, he is disappointed to find that his creation is worthless. Or is it?

**Disclaimer:** All recognizable characters and fictional places do not belong to me; I am merely borrowing them for playtime before (respectfully) putting them back. Thank you, JKR, for allowing such things to happen.

**Pairings/Main Characters** Hermione Granger and Severus Snape, the other Severus Snape. A cast of other canon characters and couple of OFCs as well.

**Warnings:** This story is rated NC-17/MA, and it is not suitable for children under age 18. It is Alternate Universe, and includes strong language, lemons (graphic sex), violence and mention of violence/torture, unresolved sexual tension, and major character death.

**Thank You:** To the village that has raised this baby over the course of several chapters: Roo, Tom Without, Allee, Lauren, Nathaniel Cardeau and ThornedHuntress. Additional thanks to my current amazing "Team Tyche," who have listened to me bounce ideas and have cleaned up my writing, making this story so, so much more than it would have been otherwise: Dragoon811, BSC_AG, AdelaideArcher and Stgulik.

A thousand further thank yous to the extremely talented SusanMarieR, who created the official banner and cover art for this piece.

* * *

><p><strong>SEVERUS, REDUX<strong>_**  
><strong>_**By: TycheSong**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Dedication:<strong> _My 200th reviewer for Severus, Redux requested only that I continue my SSHG works-in-progress. Therefore this chapter is dedicated to the fabulous __**Azulkan2.**_

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Eleven: <strong>_(In which Hermione attempts to learn Occlumancy, and Severus finds more than he expected.)_

_Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, 22 July 1996, 12:16 PM_

"What are you doing?" Severus frowned at Hermione, bewildered. She was sitting on the floor cross-legged, facing the fireplace in Number Twelve's library as if expecting a floo call. Except that the flames remained firmly yellow-orange, and her eyes were closed. He'd been watching her for about four minutes now as her brows knit and smoothed in turns, trying to figure out what in the world she could possibly be doing.

"Meditating." She answered.

"Meditating." He repeated doubtfully, and then sniffed heavily.

"Still have that cold? Been a while. The Professor mentioned to me that people who can Occlude are better at memory spells because they understand memories and thought patterns better. He won't teach me Occlumency, but he told Harry last year that the first step is to clear your mind. So that's what I'm doing." Her eyes opened and she gave him a hard stare. "It's difficult though, with you staring at me like that."

Severus struggled to keep his face straight. "How are you supposed to Occlude someone trying to break into your mind if you can't even keep your mind clear just because someone notices you behaving like a blockhead?"

She came perilously close to pouting then, her lips pursing prettily. Severus felt his pulse skip and had to control his shock. Her mouth. When had he started to notice her mouth? A cold frisson of dread snaked its way down his spine. It was happening again. He was starting to be far too comfortable with a girl who would never consider him that way. That would only end badly for him.

"Right then, it's supposed to be so easy for you. You tell me how to do it."

"I…I don't know. I just do it." Severus mumbled, sniffing again. Bloody head cold had been plaguing him for days now. "It sort of feels like I've got a wall of nothingness that hides my thoughts that I can slide up and down. Or maybe my thoughts sink back behind it. Or fade…I'm not really sure. I just sort of…do it. You just clear your thoughts out of the areas that people can go."

Hermione gave him a frustrated look. "How do you know where people can go? And how do you _not_ think of something? As soon as I try to stop thinking, my brain suddenly seems to be even noisier than usual."

Severus sighed. A week into summer holidays, he had been transplanted to Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place as its only primary occupant. Order members breezed in and out on a regular basis, some staying for only a day or two, some as long as a week, apparently taking turns gawking and "babysitting" him. His older self had apparently been ordered by either Dumbledore or Lord Voldemort or both to take up residence at the old house on Spinners End only a few days after Hermione had finally been allowed to return to her home. For the remaining two-and-a-half months of summer, he had been stuck at the old, creepy house of his former nemesis.

Another week into his stay, Hermione had shown up again, school trunk in hand, accompanied by the professor. The older man had ostensibly picked up Hermione from her parents' home on Dumbledore's request, and she was to stay for the remaining couple of months before Hermione and Severus were to start their Sixth Year. The professor had told them rather curtly to stay out of trouble and had left again, barely remaining at the house longer than an hour.

When asked if her parents were bothered by the fact that she had only been home for a week between arriving late and leaving early, the girl had only stammered and looked guilty. She had finally muttered something about how they were perfectly fine with it, but her eyes wouldn't meet his. Obviously her parents had been told something entirely different about where and with whom she was staying. She really was a rather dreadful liar.

A dreadful liar with a rather enchanting blush and really luscious lips and insane hair that really shouldn't be attractive in the slightest, but somehow in the firelight looked…fetching. Severus shook himself. _Fetching?_ He was an idiot. An absolutely ridiculous, senseless idiot. He groaned and dropped his head into his hands.

"What? It's a perfectly reasonable question! And do you need a tissue?"

Severus deliberately took another congested sounding sniff, shaking his head. There had been a question? Oh, yes. Occlumency. "I don't know!" He growled. "I can't explain it. Better if I show you."

A flicker of fear passed over her features. "Show me? Like…you'll be inside my head?"

"Well, how else are you supposed to learn?"

"Well, how did you?"

"I'm a born prodigy." He teased her smugly. "Special, you know?" He ruined it by sniffing again, feeling his chest tighten a bit as he did so.

She made a face at him and then said nervously, "What if you see something I don't want you to?"

"I won't go very deep. Try concentrating on something you don't mind if I see. Or think of song lyrics or something. Once you get a feel for where I am, I'll let go."

She wavered, clearly apprehensive. "Promise?"

He rolled his eyes. "Yes. Or I'll stop where I am, anyway." He smirked at her. "We'll go from there." She would have a harder time throwing him out once he was already in than keeping him out. Not that he really had any faith in her ability to do either at this point.

Her lips pursed again and Severus deliberately forced himself to think of something else. It would hardly do to enter her thoughts with her lips on his mind. She probably would not be able to tell, but it was always much more difficult to occlude from someone whose mind one was in.

"Here. Look me directly in the eyes." Severus reached out and placed just the tips of his fingers at her temples. Locking eyes with hers, he let himself fall into them, behind them, into her surface thoughts. _His hands._ There were no words; just the image of his hands and a wealth of emotions and memories combining and overlapping to create the thought.

Severus nearly recoiled from her mind in shock. She was thinking about his _hands._ The texture and heat of them against her temples layered with the memory of watching them while he talked. There was an image of him brewing chased by the image of the Professor's hands while he brewed. She found his hands fascinating. She found the way he flicked his wand delightful and the way he gestured unerringly elegant.

Surprised, Severus watched, _felt_ the images flicker about him: his hands wrapped around his wand, and the memory of them sliding up her bare waist, leaving warm trails of sensation behind them. His thumbs flicked over her nipples and caused little jolts of electricity, while his voice told her in a low, rumbling purr that he found her beautiful, sexy, perfect.

_That_ had never happened. For a split second, Severus felt a flash of jealous anger at the thought that the professor must have touched Hermione this way. Then he realised that the hands in her thoughts _were_ his; they were younger, less calloused, indisputably _his._ The thought jolted through him like a bolt of lightning. It wasn't a memory; it was a fantasy! Hermione Granger had _fantasised_ about his hands—about him _touching_ her like that. The realisation made him hard as a rock, and the image of her fantasy—how she imagined his hands would make her feel—flashed through _his_ mind again.

The imagery around him in her mind suddenly changed as she became aware what thoughts had risen to the surface at his touch—thoughts he had then _seen._ Horrified embarrassment coloured the mental world around him like a vivid pink/purple, and her thoughts coalesced into clear words.

_Oh, gods! I can't believe he saw me thinking th—!_ She abruptly cut herself off, and he felt her try to mentally jerk away from him, her eyes squeezing shut. Still surprised, he let her go, releasing his connection to her mind. They stared at each other for a moment, wide eyed.

"You—" He began.

"I never meant you to know about that!" She blurted. "I know you don't like me like that, and gods, this is awkward. Can we just…pretend you didn't see?" Her cheeks were flushed prettily, her eyes pleading with him. He stared at her a moment longer, trying to process what he had just seen.

She had fantasised about him, or about his hands and his voice, at least. Judging by her words, however—I know you don't like me like that—_probably_ more. A warm, incredulous feeling stole over him; a girl liked him—or wanted him, at least. Not just any girl, but one with really luscious lips, and apparently equally luscious looking tits.

She had imagined his hands on her naked body, had touched herself and heard his voice in her ear. The thought was incredibly flattering and did nothing for the erection her slightly pornographic thoughts had established. He shifted a little, glad that he was sitting in a way that didn't make his problem obvious.

"No," he found himself suddenly answering. "We can't. I can't. Did you really…I mean, do you really…?"

The pink in her cheeks deepened and her eyes averted, her teeth sinking into her lower lip. Severus found himself wanting to bite her lip, too. He mentally replayed the moment in her fantasy where his thumbs had grazed her nipples. Like her cheeks, they had been flushed with colour, he remembered. They were a bit on the smaller side, the nipples tight little buds and a dusky coral colour. He didn't have to make up what they might look like—he had her fantasies. They were perfect little handfuls and he wanted to see them in person.

"Stop staring at my chest," she groused waspishly.

"Hermione—" He started.

"Alright, yes, I did. I had a f-fan-tasy." She stumbled over the word, and her head ducked briefly. Then her chin jerked up and she stared at him mutinously. It lit her eyes on fire and her lips were redder from her teeth. He wanted to suck on them and then on those pretty, coral tipped breasts that he now knew she had.

She wasn't beautiful the way Lily was—_no, dumbshit, don't think of Lily now!_—Severus shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. Classically lovely or not, Hermione _was_ pretty, and definitely hot-blooded. More than that, she wanted _him_ enough to think about it at least once. _She_ wanted _him._ It was a rather mind-altering thought. To his surprise, tears glittered in her eyes when he refocused his attention again.

"You don't have to shake your head and look so horrified! I said I _know_ you don't like me like that, didn't I? You don't have to be cruel. Just…forget about it. I'm sure you've had...thoughts before, about girls who didn't want you. You don't have to be an arse just because you caught me in mine!"

"I'm not! I mean, you've misunderstood," he blurted, feeling his own cheeks heat. "I'm not…I'm not horrified." Nervously, he felt his fingers pluck at the robes covering his knee, and then watched as her eyes were briefly drawn by the gesture. She realised he noticed, and blushed again, a little. The small gesture emboldened him. _She_ wanted _him._

"You...you're not going to hold it over me are you? Tease me all the time?"

"Well…maybe a little," he smirked at her when she moaned a little, dropping her face into her hands. He lowered his voice a bit, trying to mimic the pitch she had fantasised about, and continued as casually as he could, "I suppose it rather depends on you."

She cautiously peeked up from her hands and to his gratification, her brown eyes had darkened just the slightest bit. She'd also sunk her teeth unconsciously into her lower lip again. "Me?"

Severus fidgeted, slightly, and said, "Well…yeah. Was it just…just that? I mean, were you just bored, and I was handy in your head, or was it…do you…?" Gods, he was going to die of mortification. He _wished_ he had the same sort of confidence that Lucius Malfoy had, or even Sirius Black. He doubted either of them had ever had a conversation _this_ awkward. Severus wasn't about to let it go, though. Not now that he knew she had had thoughts like _that_ about _him._

She twisted her fingers nervously, "Oh. You mean…you mean do I fancy you?" Her eyes darkened again, this time with hurt. "What kind of girl do you think I am, Severus? You think I just think like that about…_everyone?"_

_Shit._ He'd fucked it up. Severus backpedalled. "No…of course not. I just…"

"Do _you_ fancy _me?"_ She returned, then quickly offered, "If you don't, that's okay—I don't expect you to like me just because I, you know, like you, and if you don't—"

"So you do then. Fancy me, I mean." He interrupted her.

She flushed again. "I…I rather thought that was made more than abundantly clear."

Severus spoke, so quietly that he could barely hear himself, "So do I. Fancy you, I mean." Hermione heard him, despite how quiet he was, and he was rewarded with a dazzling smile, her brown eyes lighting up again. It prompted him further and he daringly asked, "So if I were to say that I wanted to kiss you then, you'd say…?"

She gave him a tiny smile, and answered, "Maybe you should try it, instead."

Severus drew in a shuddering breath, his heart pounding, and crept a little closer to where she was. "Even though I've still got this cold?"

"Severus." She spoke quite firmly. "I'm really not going to say it again. This whole thing has already been awkward and embarrassing enough already. So either put your money where your mouth is and kiss me, or we never bring it up again."

Well, that was certainly clear enough. It was now or never, and that thought was really not acceptable. He wasn't entirely sorted out in his head yet about how he _felt_ about her, but he definitely did want to kiss her.

He shuffled closer, still on his knees, so that they were only a hairsbreadth apart. The image of her smooth skin suddenly flashed in his mind again, her small but pretty breasts, the image of his hands sliding over them both. He shivered slightly in reaction, trying to suppress a noise as he felt himself thump almost painfully in his pants. He supposed now would probably not be the best time to adjust himself, however.

Cautiously, he put his hands on her waist, and felt something inside him loosen a little in relief as her breath hitched. Suddenly feeling more confident, he slid his hands up her ribcage, the way they had in her fantasy. Her Muggle shirt was in the way, of course, but the action clearly reminded her as well; she stared at him with wide eyes, her breath coming out in small puffs of air.

"Like this, yeah?" he whispered. She didn't answer, just stared at him, clearly anticipatory. Slowly, as if afraid she was going to suddenly shove him away, he leaned in and brushed his mouth against hers.

Her lips were soft and slightly parted and the kiss was over far too soon. He pulled back slightly, just in time to see her eyes flutter closed, and then leaned in again, closing his own eyes. His nose bumped hers and both their eyes flew open in shock. They paused a moment, and then her lips quivered in a half-smile.

He felt his cheeks heat. "Sorry," he muttered, scrunching his nose slightly. "It's kind of big and I haven't really done this before—"

"I like your nose."

"You _what?"_ He stared at her in bemusement, feeling his own awkwardness settle again as she giggled slightly.

"I like your nose. It's distinguished. It suits your face." She tilted her chin up and, to his shock, pressed a small kiss to the end of his nose. Severus blinked at her, not sure how to respond. She tilted her head at him slightly, and added, "I think you should kiss me again, now."

"Bossy," he informed her, but complied, pressing his lips to hers again. She responded just as softly, as sweetly as before, her lips clinging to his, parting a little, and then back again. He tightened his hold on her, enjoying the way she felt against him. When he felt her tongue lightly lick against his lower lip, he very nearly groaned out loud.

He hadn't believed it would be like _that book_ had described, all fire and absurd amount of "passionately"s, but he could certainly feel the potential. Remembering what it had mentioned about kissing, Severus tentatively touched his tongue to hers. The girl made a soft noise of pleased compliance and kissed him more thoroughly back, pressing herself more firmly against him, until she inevitably felt what Severus had been trying to circumspectly hide.

She pulled back slightly, her eyes wide again, and they stayed like that for a half beat, breaths mingling. "You _want_ me," she whispered. "You _really,_ actually want me. _Me."_

Severus felt his eyebrows lift. "Demonstrably," he answered, uncertain what else to say.

The girl gave a breathless sort of laugh, and then tugged his head back down to kiss him again. He was just beginning to wonder how long he'd be able to get away with snogging her, and whether or not he was allowed to kiss the spot behind her jaw and just under her ear that the book had mentioned, when the front door opened and shut with a thud.

Walburga Black's portrait started hurling abuse at the newcomer and the two teenagers jerked apart as if burned. "Hello? Hermione? Atreus?" It was that rather depressed looking Auror, Tonks, back after being gone for nearly a week. "Where are you two?"

Hermione looked at Severus, smiling slightly, and then raised her voice, calling, "In the library!"

"Of course," the answer came back, "don't know why I bothered asking."

"Hermione." Severus hissed it at her. Her eyes shot to him again. "This isn't done. You and I…we're not done."

Her smile widened. "Of course not, Atreus. I'm a bit of a perfectionist, you may have noticed, and the only way one can attain that is to _practice."_

Severus gave her an almost evil grin back. "That's what _I've_ always said about Occlumency, too," he retorted. The look on her face was priceless.

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><p><em>AN: Man, I totally love awkward teenage crushes and puppy-love. I think it's so adorable. I remember being that age and feeling like the whole world hung on that one answer or kiss. Good to know Severus can put what he learned from "that book" too good use, eh? ;-)_

_Extra special thanks to my new final Nit-And-Brit Picker, Nathaniel Cardeu, who has made it possible for me to finally start posting this story once more. It was a rough road finding a good match who was both willing and had the time, and it's awesome to finally be back in the game again. :-)_


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary:** A time travel story. When fifth-year Severus Snape tries to create a forward time-travelling philter to prove his worthiness to Lord Voldemort, he is disappointed to find that his creation is worthless. Or is it?

**Disclaimer:** All recognizable characters and fictional places do not belong to me; I am merely borrowing them for playtime before (respectfully) putting them back. Thank you, JKR, for allowing such things to happen.

**Pairings/Main Characters** Hermione Granger and Severus Snape, the other Severus Snape. A cast of other canon characters and couple of OFCs as well.

**Warnings:** This story is rated NC-17/MA, and it is not suitable for children under age 18. It is Alternate Universe, and includes strong language, lemons (graphic sex), violence and mention of violence/torture, unresolved sexual tension, and major character death.

**Thank You:** To the village that has raised this baby over the course of several chapters: Roo, Tom Without, Allee, Lauren, Nathaniel Cardeau and ThornedHuntress. Additional thanks to my current amazing "Team Tyche," who have listened to me bounce ideas and have cleaned up my writing, making this story so, so much more than it would have been otherwise: Dragoon811, BSC_AG, AdelaideArcher and Stgulik.

A thousand further thank yous to the extremely talented SusanMarieR, who created the official banner and cover art for this piece.

* * *

><p><strong>SEVERUS, REDUX<strong>_**  
><strong>_**By: TycheSong**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Twelve:<strong>_ (In which Hermione frets and then eavesdrops with Severus)_

_Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, 23 July 1996, 1:36 PM_

Hermione glared, unseeing, at one of the bookcases of Number Twelve's library, a book forgotten in her lap. Starting a…whatever she was doing…with Severus was quite probably the worst decision she could possibly make, Hermione fretted. There were more than a few reasons not to and all of them were fairly good. Even setting aside the fact that it would no doubt horrify her potions professor, causing no small amount of awkwardness in class, it was still a terrible idea.

Her best friends would no doubt hate him based on his last name alone; if Ron's behaviour toward her last boyfriend in fourth year was anything to judge by, their opinion would only go down from there. Not to mention, there was a war brewing outside. The world seemed to have gone absolutely insane in the last two-and-a-half weeks; a new Minister had been installed, shops had been destroyed and plundered, Dementor sightings were becoming commonplace and people by the dozens were turning up murdered or vanishing entirely.

No doubt this year would be the most dangerous yet for her and her friends. Death Eaters and those in their control had infiltrated Hogwarts three out of the last five years—and that wasn't even including second year when Voldemort's pet _basilisk_ had gotten loose, or third year when an alleged murderer had been running about the grounds unchecked. People liked to claim Hogwarts was the most secure place in England, but so far Voldemort had proven that breaching its walls was almost laughably easy.

As if all _that_ were not enough, it was undeniable that she was in a rather vulnerable emotional state right now, as well. Weren't people always saying that the worst time to begin a relationship was when one was emotionally unstable? She was sure she had read as much somewhere.

Her three afternoon meetings with the professor concerning mental guards and enchantments had been both interesting and worrisome. If one was to hypothetically alter someone's memory so that it might eventually be retrieved, she had been informed, there was no earthly reason why, if they were caught, those same memories would not be retrievable by Voldemort. One might as well skip the idea entirely if one was going to go into hiding either way.

On the other hand, if one were to _Obliviate_ the memories entirely, and then enchant new ones in their place, they would never be retrievable again—by anyone. She would be more or less losing her parents forever, and that was if she got it _right._ If she didn't…the thought had made her blood run cold. She could give her parents brain damage. It would be no better than murder.

Hermione considered herself an accomplished witch, especially for her age, but having spoken to the professor about it, she _knew_ she wasn't skilled enough to keep her parents safe. It would take years of study and mental practice that she just _didn't_ have. The bone-crushing fear and desperation must have shown on her face, because amazingly, he'd taken pity on her.

Something had flickered briefly in his eyes—a past regret, perhaps?—and then Professor Snape had said quietly, "You will be returning home tomorrow, Miss Granger. You are well enough that it is time. I, too, am to return to my home, and Atreus to Number Twelve. In one week's time, however, I shall come to your house, and you will tell me what you have decided." His gaze was steady, unflinching.

"I will arrange for a Portkey, to take them into hiding. Whether or not they go with their memories intact will be your choice. If you decide that they would be better off if they had no knowledge of you or the magical world, I shall do the Memory Charms myself, and you will likely never see them again."

Hermione's lip had trembled. "May I ask sir…what…what would you do?"

He responded evenly, "I would relieve them of their memories, were it me, but I am not considered a sentimental man by most."

Hermione had left his office then in tears and had fought with herself the whole week over what to do. When he had arrived, appearing rather suddenly a week later in the middle of the night, Hermione had merely nodded, tears leaking down her face. It had been kind of him not to make her say it out loud. When he had informed her that he would be taking her to the Burrow to spend the rest of the summer, Hermione had found herself shaking her head rather viciously.

"No! Please…I don't want them all feeling sorry for me. I hate being pitied and Molly has enough to worry about as it is. I don't want to explain that I chose to orphan myself. Please, can we just…not tell them? I can just stay here and then someone else can take me there later in the summer for school supplies and a ride to the train platform?"

He had studied her silently for several long moments and then finally, "I'm afraid I cannot just leave you here by yourself for a month, Miss Granger. I'm sure you consider yourself to be quite grown up, but I'm rather unconvinced that we would not find you in a shambles when we tried to retrieve you for school. I do not believe, however, that there would be an objection if you stayed at Number Twelve, instead. There has been someone stationed there at all times, of late, to keep an eye on Atreus."

If she lived to be a thousand years old, no one would ever be able to convince Hermione Granger again that Professor Severus Snape was a bad man.

Which brought her back to _her_ Severus and whatever-it-was they were doing. She was feeling overly lonely and lost; needy of approval and comfort. She was a textbook case for being at a Bad Time, especially when everything else was thrown in. She couldn't quite manage to convince herself to tell him that, though.

She really did _like_ him. He was clever, sarcastically funny, and he had the most incredible hands and voice. When he smiled, his eyes seemed to actually light up, despite being so dark it was difficult to tell where the pupils of his eyes ended and the irises began. He was graceful, too, and smelled _really_ good. Harry and Ron had always just sort of…smelled.

Hermione chewed on her lip, thinking about it. She wished she _did_ know what she and Severus were defined as. She desperately wanted to ask him, but she just as desperately didn't want to be _that_ girl. The clingy sort that was always needy and pestering a man about how he felt. Hermione dropped her face into her arms with a groan. Gods, she was turning into the worst sort of clichéd ninny. They had only kissed twice yesterday, had hardly spoken since, and she was probably over-analysing again.

Of course, he chose that moment to suddenly reappear after abruptly leaving her to her own devices after lunch. "What's wrong?" he asked casually, dropping into an open armchair.

"Nothing," Hermione answered, slightly sullenly. "Where have you been?"

His brows lifted in surprise and he said cautiously, as if afraid of an explosion, "My room."

Feeling her grumpy mood firmly take hold, Hermione shot him another _Look._ "Doing what?"

To her surprise, his cheeks tinted with the faintest colour. "Nothing. What do you care?"

Frustrated, Hermione burst out, "I don't know! It seemed an appropriate question for polite conversation! What are we doing, anyway?"

Severus' eyes widened in what appeared to be confused trepidation. She had seen that expression before. It was the exact look that Ron adopted whenever he was in trouble with his mother. _Excellent._ Hermione mentally rolled her eyes. That was so _exactly_ the feeling she wanted to generate in the boy she fancied.

"Ahhh…sitting in the library?" He finally answered, still looking a bit scared of her. Clearly he knew it wasn't the right answer but wasn't sure what else to say.

Hermione had to forcibly tell herself to calm down and not make it worse. She took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, I'm just…tired of being cooped up, I suppose, and—"

"Hermione? Atreus?" Tonks stuck her head into the library and nodded shortly, stepping the rest of the way in. "I should've known the two of you would be in here again. There is going to be an Order meeting here tonight and I am to inform you both that you are not invited. You will be staying above stairs the _entire_ time, or you will be in a lot of trouble, is that understood?"

Hermione felt herself nod obediently along with Severus. A look in his direction revealed a smooth expression, but she could almost see the wheels turning in his head. He was obviously going to try to listen in, anyway. Tonks, however, seemed to be completely oblivious, and took their nodding at face value.

Not that her inattention was surprising, really. Something was clearly on her mind, of late. She had spent the majority of the last week with them and had been uncharacteristically quiet and…well…_ordinary_ the entire time. Her hair had remained a rather mousy-brown and her eyes had taken on a melancholy, haunted cast to them. Hermione had tried to ask her about it once, only to have Tonks wave her off and mention vaguely that she was "fine," and Hermione should "not worry."

Perhaps someone had gone missing, or died? Perhaps whatever had been bothering her the last week or more would be discussed tonight. Hearing that the meeting was to be unequivocally closed to them had only convinced Hermione more fully that it was one she wanted to sit in on. She just wasn't sure how. There wasn't really a place to hide in the kitchen—they would have to listen at the door and hope that no one would suddenly come up the stairs. What she wouldn't _give_ for Harry's invisibility cloak, she thought, frustrated.

After Tonks had retreated back into the room she had set herself up in lately, Hermione looked at Severus again. "We're going to at least _try_ to find out what's going on, right?"

He nodded, his expression determined. "Of course."

* * *

><p><em>Number 12, Grimmauld Place, 23 July 1996, 5:40 PM<em>

Severus and Hermione crouched underneath a table near the top of the kitchen stairs, peaking through the tablecloth at the shimmering barrier that separated them from the promised meeting of the Order.

"Damn, that's a silencing ward. We won't be able to listen in with that," Severus intoned quietly.

Hermione tried not to feel disappointed. "Well, I guess we should have expected as much. I mean, Dumbledore's no fool; he had to know we'd try. What I'd like to know is what or who is so secret and dangerous that he's taking these sorts of precautions to keep it from us?"

Severus lifted a cynical eye-brow. "You don't believe that he might be upfront about wanting to keep the 'children' out of it?"

Hermione snorted. "No. I don't. He's been giving Harry, Ron and me rules and then leaving conveniently available ways to break them since our first year. We've been practically shoved into breaking them 'accidentally-on-purpose' more than once. If he's honestly locking us out this time, and not just putting on a show of being a good headmaster, something serious is happening at that meeting."

Severus' expression darkened slightly. "I knew he favoured Gryffindors when they got into trouble—that's never been a secret, but you're saying he actually _encourages_ you to break the rules he sets?"

"Well, not all of the rules, and never in so many words. He just has a habit of making a point to say that we are specifically _not_ to do something, but then doesn't ward things properly to keep us out, and then makes it rather clear that he never expected us to listen in the first place. What _are_ they going to talk about, I wonder?" Hermione's voice rose nearly out of her whisper.

"Well, looks like we don't get to find out," Severus hissed back, "and we should probably get out of here before we get caught."

Taking a disappointed breath, Hermione nodded and started to crawl out from under the table, only to duck back behind the hanging tablecloth hurriedly as she heard the front door open. Severus let out a frustrated sigh next to her. Their escape would have to wait another few minutes, it seemed, as what had to be the last few Order members trickled in. Hermione felt herself shrink back slightly and then her mouth fell open as Professor Snape came into view.

Walking with him was a figure in lustrous, thick, midnight-blue robes with such a deeply-set cowl that the person's features were nearly completely obscured. They moved to the side slightly, revealing an identically dressed figure behind them. Unspeakables! She recognized the dark blue robes instantly from her research on the Ministry. The book she had taken out had been incredibly unhelpful about the Department of Mysteries, but it had included a picture of the traditional concealing robes that the Unspeakables wore.

The professor had brought _Unspeakables_ to the Order meeting! Hermione clutched at Severus' arm, her eyes wide. Perhaps they were here about what had happened in the Department of Mysteries three weeks ago? Maybe they knew more about the prophesies, or how to bring Sirius back from the odd archway? There was no doubt in Hermione's mind that they were what Dumbledore was trying to keep her and Severus away from.

Professor Snape was speaking quietly with the one next to him, his head bent closer to the side of her cowl and his voice magically muffled. It _was_ a woman, Hermione was almost sure of it. The way she moved, the way her head tilted towards him and nodded slightly in understanding. Judging by the more purposeful stride and broader frame, the Unspeakable a few steps behind, however, was male. A few moments later, he threw the hood of his cowl back, confirming her suspicions.

He was very _pretty,_ she decided, more pretty than was really fair for a man. He had thick, curling dark hair and very straight, patrician features. His natural expression, even just standing about, seemed to be an easy, self-confident smile that made it clear that he was probably well aware of his good looks. No doubt he thought himself to be horribly charming, as well.

His partner's hand suddenly snaked out from her robes—it was a delicate, feminine-looking hand—and gripped Professor Snape's arm. Her head tilted towards his as she said something to him, her stance urgent.

The professor listened, a look of concentration on his face, than his gaze suddenly lifted and locked precisely on where she and Severus were hidden. There was no mistaking that he knew they were there—she could feel his gaze boring through the tablecloth at her. Now Severus was clutching her hand, too, radiating horrified tension.

For a long moment, the professor stared at their hiding place. Then, surprisingly, his head gave the barest of tilts and, with a sweeping motion, he ushered the Unspeakable on his arm down the stairs. The male Unspeakable started to follow at a lazy stroll, drawing his wand almost idly and twirling it about his fingers as if bored. He paused at the door to the stairs, waiting until he was the only one left in the room, and then flicked a knowing smirk in their direction.

Hermione's breath caught. He hadn't missed a thing! The professor had, for unknown reasons, decided to not punish them for trying to spy, but who knew what this man might do? The man arched a brow and continued toward the stairs. Almost idly his wand flicked towards the door frame and the silencing ward disintegrated. Humming softly, still twirling the wand through his fingers, he descended, leaving the door cracked in a clear invitation.

Her mouth still open, Hermione turned to look incredulously at Severus. He shrugged minutely, then crawled out from under the table and made for the doorway, leaving her to scurry after him to listen.

* * *

><p><em>AN: I wonder what they will hear...? I know, I know, I'm mean and evil. You'll find out next chapter, which doesn't end on a cliffie, I swear! Thanks so much for reading and reviewing everyone! I really appreciate it so much!_

_PSA: I'm going to be holding off on posting the next chapter until this story all caught up on Granger Enchanted (where it's hanging out on chapter eight). So it should be showing up in about three-four weeks. Just a reminder, I always post on The Maple Bookshelf about two-three days ahead of anywhere else, then FFN, Live Journal, and Granger Enchanted get updated together. AO3 is trailing woefully behind-I tend to only update there sporadically._


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary:** A time travel story. When fifth-year Severus Snape tries to create a forward time-travelling philter to prove his worthiness to Lord Voldemort, he is disappointed to find that his creation is worthless. Or is it?

**Disclaimer:** All recognizable characters and fictional places do not belong to me; I am merely borrowing them for playtime before (respectfully) putting them back. Thank you, JKR, for allowing such things to happen.

**Pairings/Main Characters** Hermione Granger and Severus Snape, the other Severus Snape. A cast of other canon characters and couple of OFCs as well.

**Warnings:** This story is rated NC-17/MA, and it is not suitable for children under age 18. It is Alternate Universe, and includes strong language, lemons (graphic sex), violence and mention of violence/torture, unresolved sexual tension, and major character death.

**Thank You:** To the village that has raised this baby over the course of several chapters: Roo, Tom Without, Allee, Lauren, Nathaniel Cardeau and ThornedHuntress. Additional thanks to my current amazing "Team Tyche," who have listened to me bounce ideas and have cleaned up my writing, making this story so, so much more than it would have been otherwise: Dragoon811, BSC_AG, AdelaideArcher and Stgulik.

A thousand further thank yous to the extremely talented SusanMarieR, who created the official banner and cover art for this piece.

* * *

><p><strong>SEVERUS, REDUX<strong>_**  
><strong>_**By: TycheSong**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Thirteen:<strong> _(In which an Order Meeting is overheard, and the plot thickens)_

Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, 23 July 1996, 5:40 PM

Severus sneezed heavily and received an exasperated look from the girl next to him. He gave her a sour expression in return. It wasn't like he could _help_ it. They were crouched by the doors that lead down to the basement-kitchen of Number Twelve, focusing intently for any sounds that either of them might be able to pick up. He couldn't help but wonder why the man had shredded the silencing ward for them. Or why his elder self hadn't sent them away. Either it was an elaborate ruse set up to allow them to "break the rules" as Hermione had described or, for some reason, his elder self and the two new-comers had reason to go against Dumbledore's orders.

Considering what Hermione had just said, he knew it was probably the first…and yet…something niggled the back of his mind. Absently he sniffed, thinking about it. The way she had described it, when the opportunities to break the rules had presented themselves to her and her friends before, they had been disguised as such. A door would be left unlatched, a password-ward conveniently not in place. Not this blatant permission. Even knowing it was probably a manipulation; he couldn't help but wonder if there might be factions in the Order. There were factions under Lord Voldemort so it stood to reason.

His thoughts were interrupted abruptly as Dumbledore's voice finally broke the murmured conversations below stairs. "Well, then. Since we have all managed to finally find the _time_ to gather," Severus' brows lifted at the faint edge in the headmaster's voice, "I would rather like to hear an explanation for what happened at the Ministry. I'm sure you all remember our friends from the Time Division in the Department of Mysteries?"

Next to him, Hermione drew a sharp breath. When he glanced at her questioningly, she explained quietly, "Those two in the blue robes with Professor Snape are Unspeakables—from the Time Room. That's where the Prophesies were all kept, too. Who _knows_ what they've seen, or what they might have learnt from studying time?" The thought _was_ intriguing. Giving her a short nod, he went back to listening, craning to hear.

"Surely you can understand that we've been a _bit_ busy this last month, Professor Dumbledore. Your students left quite a mess, especially in our division. The Kairos Hall alone lost _thousands_ of prophesies. If we hadn't taken care to move them, we would have lost all the Time Turners, as well. The Chronos Lab and Athenaeum were practically torn apart."

That was the woman's voice—it had to be. At least, it didn't sound like Professor McGonagall or Tonks. He hadn't met Mrs. Weasley yet, but she had been jabbering earlier to a hideously scarred fellow with a peg-leg on the way in, and her voice had been very distinctive. The speaker _did_ sound vaguely familiar, though, so perhaps he had met the woman somewhere before. At one of the Slytherin gatherings in the past, perhaps?

"You had 'taken care to move' the Time Turners? You _knew_ they were coming!" That was Lupin, his voice coming out in a harsh growl.

There was a low _thud,_ followed by a disbelieving laugh. The male Unspeakable, Severus surmised. "Of _course_ we knew. What, you think it's _easy_ to create a three hour window of time where there is no security in the path of six children bumbling their way through the Department of Mysteries? If the Dark Lord hadn't been using his resources to achieve the same end, I doubt we would have been able to do it, entirely."

"Have a care, boy, you sound like a Death Eater, calling him that." The gravelly voice was threatening.

"I afford respect where respect is due," the Unspeakable answered coldly.

"We lost an Order member to that fight; one that Harry Potter saw as _family._ The children were hurt, two of them nearly _killed."_ That was Mrs. Weasley. Her husband followed her outburst with his own hard, angry tones.

"There has been nearly a million galleons' worth of damages, and for _what?_ Our adversary did not even have a hostage. We gained _nothing_ from the entire mess—that battle is a clear _loss_—and you willingly admit that you not only did nothing to stop it, but _removed the barriers that would have kept it from happening?"_

"Your loyalties do seem remarkably suspect." The low, measured tone was the tall black man, Kingsley. "What sort of people claim to work against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and yet lead children—including the Boy Who Lived—into his traps? Not to mention you name your workplace here, even though it is forbidden, and deliberately plan a security breach in the Ministry?"

"And really, the only word we have vouching for you is _Snape's."_ It was Lupin again, his voice heavy with meaning. Severus tensed, angry on behalf of his elder self. It wasn't until Hermione's hand slipped over his, uncurling his fingers to lace hers through that he realised that he had balled his hands into fists.

The woman's voice was incredulous. "You _know_ who I am."

"No, actually, we don't," Lupin countered. "We know who you _were._ Who knows what you've become?"

"Not the Dark Lord's lackey; _never_ that." She retorted, right over the top of the man's menacing hiss.

"How _dare_ you! Sesh has dedicated her _life_ to you—! "

"All of you, settle down." Dumbledore's voice cut through the raised voices like a knife. "Severus, I said _sit!"_

"The children were fine. We were both there, in the shadows, making adjustments as needed." The man finally said. "We did what had to be done."

"Apparently you couldn't be bothered to 'make adjustments' for Sirius, though." That voice was the Weasley couple's eldest son, who had been quiet until now. "Or 'make adjustments' so that the night didn't happen at all. I do believe that we are all still waiting for an explanation for that. Why would you encourage children into a trap like that, when we _did_ stand to gain nothing?" There were murmured agreements from several others.

It was the woman who answered. "But we didn't gain _nothing,_ did we, Professor Dumbledore?" she said knowingly. "The Ministry now openly acknowledges the Dark Lord's return and no longer calls Harry insane or a liar. The Order also is now the only side with access to Time Turners or Hauh Boxes. The Order is also now free of a very dangerous member."

Lupin's voice rose in a protesting shout, but the woman's voice kept going, cutting him firmly off. "I didn't say that he was a _bad_ man, Remus. I said _dangerous._ Sirius Black was more than half-mad, and constantly trying to live vicariously through Potter's deeds. He's been prodding and needling him into trying idiotic stunts for _months_ now while you lot all pretended not to care."

There was a shocked, offended silence. Severus snuffled a little, trying not to sneeze again and give them away in the quiet.

After a moment, the male Unspeakable picked up where his partner had left off, his voice more reasonable. "You must also realise the perspective that we have, and how it's different from yours, just because of what we _do._ We see a different picture—a broader one."

Severus tilted closer to the door, listening eagerly as the Unspeakable continued, "Experiences, choices, _life_…it shapes people, and forges them into what they need to be to survive the next encounter. Professor Dumbledore has been manipulating the life of your 'Chosen One' since the day his parents died. That disaster, as you call it, shaped many of the major players of this war—it wasn't something we could just _change_ because of our allegiance."

"If Sirius Black had lived, who knows what he may have done to sabotage the future we have _seen?_ If Harry Potter hadn't led his friends into a disastrous battle in which he lost the godfather he was trying to save, would he be as cautious as he needs to be when it counts in the future? Will he trust the friends who had his back the way he must? Who do y—"

His voice was cut off abruptly, the silence heavy. Then, calmer, he said, "Excuse me. I'm being called by someone I must answer."

A small bevy of protests rose slightly, but didn't deter the boots that started thumping up the stairs. Severus rose quickly, Hermione's hand still caught in his, and reeled them both backward. Even if this man had been the one to invite them, it wouldn't do to be _caught_ listening at the door, especially if anyone was following him. They wouldn't be fast enough to get under the table again—trying would only end up making them look ridiculous.

The door opened fully and the Unspeakable, his hood still down around his shoulders, emerged. He gave them an amused look, and shut the door firmly behind him. Not sparing them another glance, he pulled a small leather-bound journal out of one of his robe pockets. He ignored them for a few moments, making notes in it. He seemed to study his own work for a moment, then nodded sharply and re-pocketed it.

Next to him, Hermione gasped in shock and clutched his hand tighter as the man, still ignoring them, pulled a complicated looking gold pendant out from under the neck of his robes. He adjusted the freely swinging hourglass at its centre with a look of concentration on his face, and then flicked it with a practiced finger. Then he disappeared right in front of their eyes, his image fading away.

Severus, his eyes wide, swivelled his glance to Hermione. She was pale; clearly she had recognised the pendant. Severus had never seen one before in person, but he had seen many pictures in his research for his potion. If she recognised it as well, it could possibly explain why her birthday was "complicated." When had _Hermione_ had the occasion to use a Time-Turner? Her breathless confirmation of the pendant didn't make him feel less unsettled.

"A Time-Turner. He has a _Time-Turner!_ I wonder where he's gone, and why?" Hermione said it fast, then let out a small shriek as the front door to Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place opened quickly, startling her. The Unspeakable strode back into the room, shutting the door behind him. His hood was now up.

"Sorry about that. I didn't mean to startle you." His hands lifted and threw his hood back down again, his long fingers once more shaking out his dark curls. "Had to go for a bit."

"When?" Hermione burst out, apparently unable to keep it in. "How far back did you go, and what did you do?"

The man laughed out loud and ignored her question, turning instead to Severus. "You must be Atreus Prince, Severus' nephew," he said genially. "You can call me Damian."

Severus started. He had forgotten that as an illegitimate child his last name would be Prince, rather than Snape. His eyes narrowed then. Something about the man's tone… he knew. He wasn't sure how—maybe because of where he worked?—but somehow, this man knew who he really was. "Yes," Severus answered. "How do you know Professor Snape?" There was a faint challenge in his voice.

Damian's grin widened devilishly and his eyes openly mocked Severus. "Oh, we're old friends. I knew him in school."

Severus felt his eyes narrow further and he itched to call the man a liar. He hadn't had any close friends like Damian seemed to be implying. Certainly he hadn't known _this_ man. Perhaps he had gone to Hogwarts at the same time, but he hadn't been a friend of his. Severus couldn't call him out on it, though, not without openly giving in and letting him win the game. Hermione made a small sound and he suddenly realised he was squeezing her hand more tightly than was warranted. He grimaced slightly. He hadn't meant to hurt her.

"You're lying. You know what's going on somehow. Did Professor Snape tell you?" Hermione suddenly accused. Severus fought not to roll his eyes. _So much for subtlety._ He really needed to talk to her about that before school started again. Otherwise the whole school would know as soon as anyone had a hunch in front of her.

As he had before, Damian ignored Hermione's question, and simply studied her for a moment, smirk in place. "And you. You're Hermione Jean Granger, Harry Potter's best friend." He gave a small huff of laughter. "Time is funny, isn't it, Hermione Granger?" He directed his attention back to Severus. "Yes. I _did_ actually go to school with you for a while, though you looked a bit different then. Not enough to fool _my_ memory, but of course," his eyes gleamed, "I have a bit of an advantage in that quarter."

"Time Turners can't go back that far," Hermione said authoritatively, then hesitated as she realised who she was speaking to, "can they?"

"Can they indeed? That's certainly a question to ponder, Miss Hermione Granger."

"Why do you keep calling me by my full name like that?" Her voice was irritated.

"It tickles my sense of humour," he replied.

"You know what I find _doesn't_ tickle my sense of humour, even a little?" Hermione's voice shook so slightly that he might have missed it if he hadn't been spending so much time with her. Damian didn't appear to miss it either and his eyes crinkled.

"Do tell, Miss Hermione Granger. What do you find so _very_ serious?"

"You call Lord Voldemort 'the Dark Lord,' and you got called in a way no one else can hear, you are a time traveller who writes in a leather-bound diary, then wait as if it's responding. Since you know so much, perhaps you know why all of that might be _serious_ to me."

Damian threw his head back and laughed.

Unable to help himself, Severus sneezed, hard. Bloody head cold was driving him insane. To his surprise, Damian's eyes flew to him, his gaze sharp. "Are you feeling a bit under the weather, Atreus?"

Annoyed, Severus answered, "It's just a cold. We can apparently cure tuberculosis and even eradicate the black plague, but the common cold? Beyond us."

"Ah, but then what would we use to fight off the aliens when they land?" Damian asked idly, startling Severus into a short laugh. "Still. Still, that's…interesting."

"Aliens?" Hermione's mounting frustration and anger was clearly mounting. "Stop side-stepping me!"

Damian's attention returned to her, his face suddenly impassive. "Tell me something, Miss Hermione Granger. Do you trust your Professor Snape?"

Severus tried not to let his own interest in the question show as he, too, glanced at the girl next to him. She looked startled, and then firmly answered, "Yes, implicitly."

"He trusts me enough to introduce me to your Order of the Phoenix, and grant me access to this safe house. So you should have nothing to fret over, then, yes?" A brow lifted.

The man had not actually answered her question at all, Severus noted. He had responded in a very Slytherin way. A sidelong glance at Hermione showed that she had either gotten better at schooling her features in the last few minutes, or she hadn't noticed.

"Perhaps it is time for you to return to the meeting below, Vector, and stop antagonizing my nephew and his…friend." The professor's voice quietly cut in from behind them, causing Severus to jump slightly. Hermione actually gasped and spun about to gape; a quick assessment showed that her cheeks had heated attractively again. Severus forced himself not to grin. The Unspeakable had just tricked her into stating her trust right in front of the professor. No doubt she was _very_ glad at this point that she hadn't hesitated before answering.

The professor himself was impassive, his expression giving nothing away about how he felt about her clearly stated faith in him. A small tilt of his head towards the door had Damian smirking and sauntering to the door. The professor waited until he had disappeared down the stairs before saying softly, "While I do believe that Damian Vector is not working for the Dark Lord, and he and his partner to be valuable resources, I think it would be a good idea to avoid him in the future, if you are able. He is…fond of causing uncomfortable situations for his amusement."

Severus felt himself nod silently, when Hermione suddenly blurted out, "Sir?"

Professor Snape paused before following the Unspeakable down the stairs, glancing over his shoulder at her.

"He—Damian—the first thing he did when he got up here was use appear to communicate with a diary, and then use a Time Turner. I don't know when he went, but…I thought you should know, sir."

Professor Snape's brows twitched fractionally. "What Damian Vector does should not concern you, Miss Granger. Curiosity can be detrimental to more than cats."

Severus felt himself frown slightly. Despite the impression the professor was giving, he was almost certain that the man hadn't known, and found the information interesting. His eyes sharp, he watched his elder version meticulously ward the door into silence again, and shut the door securely behind him as he descended the stairs after the Unspeakable.

Next to him, Hermione let out a frustrated sigh. "Well, that's _that,_ I guess." Her lips pursed again and Severus had the sudden urge to try to talk her into letting him kiss her again. He could puzzle over the odd encounter later, perhaps.

Clearing his throat a bit nervously, he ventured, "There's uh, apparently a comet visible."

The girl gave him a strange look. "Yes, Hale-Bopp. We started looking for it in Astronomy towards the end of the year."

_Shit. Of course she's already studied it in class._ Severus shrugged uneasily; it was too late to backpedal now. "Well, I haven't really seen it yet and it's bound to be brighter than a month ago, now. I just thought maybe you'd…you know, like to take a look tonight? Uh, I mean, with me? It's supposed to clear up tonight, and the top floor has a window that lets you climb right out onto the roof, and I just thought…" His felt his cheeks burn as his voice trailed off and tried to decide if he could somehow disappear. He peaked up at her from behind his hair and, to his surprise, she was smiling so brightly it nearly split her face in two.

"You mean…like a date?"

Severus felt himself freeze instinctively. Any other girl would ridicule him for attempting to garner a date. This, however, _wasn't_ any other girl, he reminded himself. She was smiling and she had kissed him yesterday. She confessed to _fancying_ him. He swallowed and managed to croak out, "Yeah. I mean yes. Like a date. You know, if you want."

The girl beamed at him again. "I would really like that."

Severus felt his breath leave him in an embarrassing _whoosh._ He offered her a small smile and then ruined what little remained of his dignity by sneezing heavily.

* * *

><p><em>AN: Sorry for the repost-there was a mix up, and the original one got deleted. :-(_

_I am unaccountably excited to be posting this particular chapter. It has been one of my favourites to write so far, as well as one of the easiest. This was one of those that just...came out, and very little was changed from the rough draft. A few questions were answered to the discerning eye, a lot more presented...hopefully._

_I like to think that my plot is clever, but we all know that readers often tend to be more clever than their writers. X-D All I ask is that if you've caught me out to please not review about it and spoil it for everyone else! E-Mails and PMs are of course, a different story._

_One again, thanks so much for reading! Please review, I really appreciate it!_


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary:** A time travel story. When fifth-year Severus Snape tries to create a forward time-travelling philter to prove his worthiness to Lord Voldemort, he is disappointed to find that his creation is worthless. Or is it?

**Disclaimer:** All recognizable characters and fictional places do not belong to me; I am merely borrowing them for playtime before (respectfully) putting them back. Thank you, JKR, for allowing such things to happen.

**Pairings/Main Characters** Hermione Granger and Severus Snape, the other Severus Snape. A cast of other canon characters and couple of OFCs as well.

**Warnings:** This story is rated NC-17/MA, and it is not suitable for children under age 18. It is Alternate Universe, and includes strong language, lemons (graphic sex), violence and mention of violence/torture, unresolved sexual tension, and major character death.

**Thank You:** To the village that has raised this baby over the course of several chapters: Roo, Tom Without, Allee, Lauren, Nathaniel Cardeau and ThornedHuntress. Additional thanks to my current amazing "Team Tyche," who have listened to me bounce ideas and have cleaned up my writing, making this story so, so much more than it would have been otherwise: Dragoon811, BSC_AG, AdelaideArcher and Stgulik.

A thousand further thank yous to the extremely talented SusanMarieR, who created the official banner and cover art for this piece.

* * *

><p><strong>SEVERUS, REDUX<strong>_**  
><strong>_**By: TycheSong**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Fourteen: <strong>_(in which Hermione and Severus go on a date)_

_Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, 23 July 1996 11:33 PM_

Severus clambered out on the roof of Number Twelve through a dingy attic skylight, using an old, dust-cloth-covered table to bolster himself high enough. Once he was outdoors in the cooling July evening, he shuffled down the last metre of the roof until he reached the bottom wedge formed by the conjoined roofs of Number Twelve and Number Fourteen.

Pausing for a moment, he coughed out the dust he had breathed in on the way up, and quickly covered his mouth as it triggered a true coughing fit. Snuffling a little, he made a mental note to take another decongestant potion before bed. Nothing could ruin his planned date faster than phlegm.

Bracing a knee back against the roof, he peered down through the opening, reaching an arm through for the quilt he had left with Hermione below. She passed it up, looking a bit nervous, and he smiled reassuringly.

"It's alright, really. It's not that difficult getting out, and we're quite safe up here. I'll be right back to help you out." He quickly turned and laid the blanket out as close to the centre of the roofs as he could, flapping it a few times to keep it from bunching up. The weather had held surprisingly well the last several days, and the roof was thankfully dry and devoid of any damp patches.

Stepping back to consider his handiwork, he shook his head slightly and critically straightened the corners up each side of the wedge. Once satisfied with the quilt's placement, he turned back to the skylight and waggled his hand, offering it to help her up.

Looking a bit nervous, Hermione clambered on top of the table, wobbling a bit as her thick hair fell into her eyes. As he had done, she used one of the roof's support beams to steady herself until she could stand, her mouth set in a stubborn line. He found the expression ridiculously cute, but it probably wasn't the best idea to tell her that.

The added height made her tall enough to stick her head out of the skylight, and with his help she was able to leverage herself up through onto the roof. Severus gestured toward the blanket he had laid out, and Hermione smiled as she sat, leaning against the roof of Number Twelve, and placing her feet flat against the opposite angle of Number Fourteen. "You didn't bring a telescope." She observed.

"No." He answered carelessly, joining her on the blanket. He tilted his head back and looked at the sky, picking out a couple of the brighter constellations idly.

"The comet is scarcely bigger than a smudgy star right now; Professor Sinistra says it won't be a spectacle for several more months," she continued, "We've also got quite a bit of light pollution here."

"All very true."

Hermione twisted her head sideways to look at him and lifted her brows at his unconcerned tone. _"How_ were you planning to observe it, again?"

He rolled his head back in her direction as well, smiling slyly, his expression no doubt making his response clear. _He hadn't been._ "It's too bad, isn't it? Guess we'll just have to settle for star gazing." He answered innocently.

Hermione broke into giggles. "You're not even _trying_ to pretend you're actually disappointed!"

"It was a horrible excuse at best to lure you up here, and you knew it from the start." He chided.

Hermione laughed again, and then, to his pleasure, snuggled against his side. "I see. So now that you've 'lured me up here,' what, exactly, do you plan on doing with me?" Her breath was warm against his neck, tickling his ear as she whispered it.

Excellent. They were clearly on the same page. His mouth found hers in reply, and she eagerly kissed him back, sighing a little as she seemed to just melt against him. She was deliciously soft—soft curves, soft lips, a cloud of soft hair. The fingers of his right hand seemed to be all tangled up in it, even as his left tucked her more closely into his body. Her shirt had ridden up a little in the back so that his knuckles were actually brushing against her bare skin. That was soft, too.

Her mouth tasted like the oranges she had been snacking on earlier in the evening, oranges and cinnamon tea and heat. Did heat have a taste? He felt himself groan a little as her tongue slid along his, and decided that yes, heat did have a taste. Feeling more confident about what he was doing this time, Severus kissed her more thoroughly, pleased when her own fingers tightened around his neck.

She worried his lips a little, nipping and sucking them softly; it made him instantly hard again—it was honestly ridiculous how little it took for her to put him in that state. Praying she wouldn't realise, he shifted a little to the side. She responded by shifting with him until she was half lying on him, and then he was lost beyond thought. For several long minutes there was nothing but her warm weight against him, the feeling of her mouth, soft curves and the almost uncontrollable need to let his hands drift down to cup her denim-clad arse and rock into her.

He very nearly didn't catch himself in time. When he realised mid-snog just how close he was to likely getting smacked, he reversed the direction of his hands with alacrity, stroking back up her spine instead. This elicited a short, throaty moan from Hermione, and she had actually _wriggled_ in his lap. His heart stopped for a split second and he bloody well near came in his pants.

He broke their kiss hurriedly, his breath a bit labored. "Hermione," he murmured, slightly panicked, "Wait…" she was kissing his jaw, the witch, those warm, slightly wicked lips making a little trail down his throat and back towards his mouth. Her thigh was now firmly snugged against his crotch—there was no hiding that he was _entirely_ turned on—and if he couldn't get her to stop it he was going to seriously embarrass himself.

"Hermione!" He burst out, pushing her away. "Wait…just, wait." He took in a deep breath and focused on it, trying not to think about his cock throbbing right on the edge of explosion. He cracked an eyelid to look at her and saw self-conscious confusion writ all over her face. "Just…give me a minute, will you? Things were just getting…a little much for me for a moment there."

She blinked at him owlishly, and then comprehension suddenly seemed to dawn. Her eyes darted toward his groin and away again; her cheeks lit a deep crimson. Instead of embarrassing him further, the way he thought it should have, her clear mortification instead steadied him, even made him smile. "What?" He found himself teasing her, "You didn't even _notice_ this time?"

"I…I rather got a bit carried away," she admitted, and then grinned at him, looking for all the world like a cat who'd eaten the canary.

"What?" He asked a little unnerved by her smug smile.

"Well—don't laugh okay?—but I just feel sort of oddly pleased. It's a bit of a lift to the self-esteem that I can, you know, do _that_ to you. Have that effect, I mean."

"Hell, I'm sixteen. It's not like it's _that_ hard." He responded without thinking. Her grin widened and a small snort escaped her, and he felt his cheeks burn. "That's not what I meant," he protested. "Difficult. It's not that difficult to, uh…"

"Stir your potion?" She asked with a wicked grin.

"Hermione!" He groaned, rocking his head back against the roof.

She snickered, a coy smile turning her lips up as her tone became deceptively innocent.

"You know, I have this horribly cranky Potions Professor who always says that I'm no good at the subject at all." She leaned back into him, her lips ghosting over his jaw line again. "He says I've got no _instinctual_ knack for it." Her lips pressed briefly against his, the merest hint of her tongue licking against his lower lip. "But I've never really believed that, I happen to think my methods are rather effective. What do you think?"

"No…no I think your methods are fine," he rasped, tugging her back against his chest. "But practice is terribly important when it comes to Potions, you know."

She dissolved into laughter as their mouths met once more; they didn't make it back inside until nearly two in the morning.

* * *

><p><em>Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, 24 July 1996, 04:15 PM<em>

Severus looked down at the massacre in front of him and mentioned idly, "I hope you realise how surreal this situation is for me. I am at Sirius Black's house, playing chess with my Gryffindor… girlfriend…who also happens to be best friends with a Potter." He eyed her just a touch nervously, but she didn't protest his terminology. Girlfriend. He had a girlfriend. Severus let the thought roll about his mind a moment, caught between satisfaction and disbelief.

She didn't appear to notice his inner debate in the slightest. Instead, she was frowning at the chessboard in front of them, her lips pursed in an enticing little pout. He watched with no small amusement as her brow furrowed in frustrated concentration, and then with more conviction than talent ordered her remaining knight to behead one of his rooks.

The rook actually gave him a long-suffering look before resignedly succumbing. Hermione's knight eyed the queen it was directly in the path of with trepidation. Severus shook his head in wonder. "You really are _terrible_ at chess, did you know?" He commented.

"I _hate_ chess." Hermione answered, looking annoyed. "Especially Wizards' Chess— it's positively barbaric. Not to mention I had a traumatic experience with a gigantic Wizards' Chess set when I was twelve. You know I'm only playing because you like it."

"Well, what would _you_ rather do?"

She shook her head, her mass of curls bobbing, and gave him a wry glance. "Just end it, will you? I know you've been holding off just to be nice."

He lifted an eyebrow—he'd finally gotten that trick down!—and gave his readied order. He watched with a little amusement as she winced when his chess piece brutalised hers, and then said calmly, "Check."

For a moment he thought something was seriously wrong—she was white, staring at where his Queen had used her throne to bash her knight to pieces. To his surprise, she shivered a little, and then abruptly said, "That's as good as the game. I'm done, I think." Her gaze dropped to stare mutinously at the chessboard, her lips pursed again and her left fist clenched. Hermione Granger, he realised, was not a girl accustomed to losing at much. Her eyes caught his, and when she saw the laughter in his own gaze, she sighed and smiled a little ruefully. "I'm sorry; I'm a bit tense, aren't I?"

"A bit, yeah." He grinned, and then his smile faltered a little. "It's not because of last night, is it?"

Her eyes widened and she shook her head vigorously, her one of her long curls actually whipping her in the nose as she did so. It was probably a measure of how pathetic he already was that he found even that adorable.

"That particular chess move is just…it's got some memories attached to it, that's all. And I'm fretting because I haven't received my OWL scores yet—they should have been here a couple of weeks ago—I'm worried that the wards on this house have turned them back. If that weren't enough, Harry's birthday is in a week and I haven't had a chance to go shopping for a present." She suddenly looked stricken. "I'm not even sure I'll get to see him; I haven't made any arrangements to go to the Weasleys'."

Severus blinked at her outpouring, and opened his mouth to answer. Instead he ended up sneezing, only barely turning his face into his robes in time to keep from getting the chess board.

"Bless you," she responded, idly moving one of her chess pieces by hand to a square it couldn't legally occupy. It was difficult to say if the chess piece looked more affronted by the handling or the illegality.

Severus nodded his thanks, and finally was able to answer, "I can possibly solve one of those at least—I forgot to mention it earlier. I mean, it might not be anything, but someone who was here yesterday left you some letters on the table downstairs. One of them has got the Ministry seal on it—it's probably your scores. I saw them this afternoon when I went to grab some breakfast."

Hermione promptly went mad; honestly Severus couldn't think of another way to describe it. She was out of her chair with a _shriek_ that could possibly have passed for a mandrake wail and had bolted for the stairs before he had barely finished the sentence. The chess set was actually upended in her haste, the remaining few pieces were sent flying every which way as she bounded out the door.

Severus felt his jaw drop slightly at the display, and then continue to fall as he heard her pound down the two flights of stairs to the kitchen. How anyone as trim as she was could make that much noise was beyond logic. He closed his mouth, feeling both amused and bemused, and leaned down to pick up the chess pieces that had fallen. The taken pieces had fortunately already repaired themselves before her sudden fit, but he had to hunt for the white queen for a few moments before he found her under the couch.

Severus cautiously descended the last flight of narrow stairs to the basement kitchen, uncertain of how to handle the new personality development in his girlfriend. _His girlfriend._ It was such a weird thought. It made him smile faintly in pleasure, even if she was a complete lunatic. He wasn't entirely certain what to expect when he got to the kitchen, so it was pleasantly relieving to see her just standing by the table, staring at one of the letters that had been left for her. Then he noticed her stony expression, her rigid stance and how her left hand had re-curled into a small fist at her side.

"All right?" He asked.

Her lips tightened for a moment before she responded, "All right; I got an E in Defence."

"That's good." He responded. Likely he would have gotten better—Defence was one of his best subjects, but an Exceeds Expectations was hardly something to warrant her upset expression. "Did you fail something else, or…?"

"What? No!" The look she gave him was insulted. "Of course not."

"Then…"

"I just said, didn't I? I got an E." She muttered, slapping the Ministry letter back down on the table.

She had expected full marks across her O.W.L.s, had she? It had happened before, of course, so it wasn't impossible, but it was rare enough that it usually only happened every other year or so. He had rather anticipated the same for himself, but he hadn't gotten to actually take his O.W.L.s. He would have to ask his elder self what was going to be done about that, he realised.

Curiously, he lifted her marks from the table while she tore into one of the other two letters left for her, and suppressed a smile. She nearly had gotten straight-Os. The E in Defence was her only mark that wasn't an Outstanding. He had known she was intelligent, but the fact that she actually seemed to care about her marks as much as he did and didn't just treat school as social hour was a bonus. She clearly had her priorities straight; it was an odd but welcome trait to find. Severus dropped himself into a seat, feeling rather pleased with himself.

"Apparently my scores were delivered to care-of-Hogwarts when the Ministry owl was turned back from my parents' house." Hermione ventured, reading the letter. "They couldn't locate me and so sent them to the Headmaster to keep on file. Professor McGonagall brought them yesterday to the meeting, along with a couple of letters."

Hermione waved the letter in her hand. "I've been invited to go and celebrate Harry's birthday with the Weasley family next week, stay at the Burrow until their school shopping trip in three weeks time and be taken to the train on the first."

Severus felt his mood darken. "What about me? Am I going shopping and celebrating Potter's birthday?" Potter's name came out on a sneer, and Hermione visibly winced.

Her hand smoothed down the thigh of her denims, clearly discomfited, the letter from the Weasley matriarch still clutched in her opposite hand, and then searched his face for several long moments. Severus knew he looked a bit defensive and sullen, but couldn't seem to help himself.

"I don't think so." She said finally. "She hasn't met you; I'm not sure she even knows about you yet. I'll ask if you like—I've been friends with them and Harry for years. We all went as a group last year, also, and the year before. My parents haven't…" her lip suddenly trembled, and Severus felt himself straighten infinitesimally in alarm. Why was she suddenly on the verge of tears?

She collected herself after a moment, and then continued, "My parents haven't taken me to Diagon Alley since my third year—Mrs. Weasley invited me along on their family trips after that." She shrugged, a little, and smiled a little wryly. "Last year we even stayed here for a while. Primarily, I think, because Mrs. Weasley wanted help trying to clean this place," her nose wrinkled, and she added, "It was really awful here."

Her expression turned serious. "You'll give them a chance, won't you? You're not supposed to be already biased, and Harry isn't like his father, I swear! He and Ron are my _best friends._ For my first couple years at school, they were my _only_ friends."

A low knot formed in Severus' stomach. She expected him to be friends with _Potter?_ Unbidden, the words his elder self had said when he had caught them in the hall almost exactly two months earlier rose in his mind. _"She's rather like the Lupin to their Potter and Black. They change their Pettigrew on a regular basis, depending on whom and what they need. You wouldn't want to be the next replacement. Their last one ended up dead…"_

"Severus?" Hermione asked, her voice pleading.

"Atreus." He corrected her. "You have _got_ to remember. I've been reminding you all summer. Think of it as a nickname if you have to, but you have _got_ to remember to call me Atreus."

"Atreus. Right, I'm sorry. Atreus, please will you give Harry and Ron a chance? You can sit with us on the train, get to know them a bit, yeah?"

Severus heaved a sigh, and cleared his throat when it nearly set him to coughing again. "Fine. I'll play nice, but if they hex first, I'm not taking it lying down just because they're your friends."

She flung her arms around his neck and pressed her lips against his, and Severus found himself wondering if it would really be so awful to be friends with a Potter if he was rewarded on a regular basis for it.

* * *

><p><em>AN: The response to last chapter was so fantastic! Thank you so, so much for the love and support, everyone! I cannot begin to express how wonderful some of you made me feel. :-DI got not one, but TWO pieces of gorgeous art for this story by a couple of incredibly kind and generous ladies-please go to my profile, check them out and then go tell SusanMarieR and Lemonade8 how awesome they are!_


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary:** A time travel story. When fifth-year Severus Snape tries to create a forward time-travelling philter to prove his worthiness to Lord Voldemort, he is disappointed to find that his creation is worthless. Or is it?

**Disclaimer:** All recognizable characters and fictional places do not belong to me; I am merely borrowing them for playtime before (respectfully) putting them back. Thank you, JKR, for allowing such things to happen.

**Pairings/Main Characters** Hermione Granger and Severus Snape, the other Severus Snape. A cast of other canon characters and couple of OFCs as well.

**Warnings:** This story is rated NC-17/MA, and it is not suitable for children under age 18. It is Alternate Universe, and includes strong language, lemons (graphic sex), violence and mention of violence/torture, unresolved sexual tension, and major character death.

**Thank You:** To the village that has raised this baby over the course of several chapters: Roo, Tom Without, Allee, Lauren, Nathaniel Cardeau and ThornedHuntress. Additional thanks to my current amazing "Team Tyche," who have listened to me bounce ideas and have cleaned up my writing, making this story so, so much more than it would have been otherwise: Dragoon811, BSC_AG, AdelaideArcher and Stgulik.

A thousand further thank yous to the extremely talented SusanMarieR, who created the official banner and cover art for this piece.

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><p><strong>SEVERUS, REDUX<strong>_**  
><strong>_**By: TycheSong**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Fifteen:<strong> _(in which Hermione goes shopping in Diagon Alley with the Weasleys)_

The Burrow, Ottery St. Catchpole, Devon, 23 August 1996, 08:32 AM

Hermione was far more excited to embark upon the annual shopping trip in Diagon Alley than she had ever been in the past; she was literally bouncing on her toes a bit in impatient anticipation. She couldn't seem to help it; the month of August had been quite possibly the longest month of her life.

She had been moody, embarrassingly so, and reticent, unable to motivate herself into the same amount of exuberance as Harry and the Weasley siblings over the last month of summer. She knew she was being a bit of a prat, but couldn't seem to help or stop herself. She kept thinking about _him._ They had exchanged two letters apiece in the three weeks since she had left Number Twelve, and it simply wasn't enough. She missed him and his slow smile and witty conversation and his dry sense of humour. She found herself rapidly changing moods throughout the day as she flipped between pining for his company and day dreaming about his lean body and druggingly lovely kisses.

It was utterly ridiculous. No matter how many times she told herself she was being a silly and hormonal teenager, or reminded herself that it was only for a few weeks, she couldn't seem to stop herself swinging wildly from euphoria to pouting. He was the first boy she had ever really, truly fancied who liked her back—Ronald had never returned her fledgling affections and Viktor had always been more a social experimentation than a true relationship.

_Atreus,_ though… _Atreus_ made her feel giddy and attractive and a bit powerful, and now, _finally,_ after three interminable weeks, the Weasley family was going shopping in Diagon Alley and taking Harry and her along. Atreus had sworn in his last letter that he would be there as well, accompanied by Madam Pomfrey, and they had made plans to meet up at Flourish and Blotts.

She didn't even realise that she was humming until Ron gave her a _look_ and said sourly, "What are you so pleased about? I didn't think you liked shopping especially. It's one of your redeeming qualities as a girl."

Hermione's acidic retort was cut short by Harry chiming in, "Oi, but you forgot, Ron. This is shopping for _school._ When have you ever known school not to cheer Hermione up?"

"You're both wrong, morons." The two boys turned to gape at Ginny, who gave Hermione an arch look. Heat stole its way to her cheeks as it became apparent from her smug, knowing expression that Ginny _knew._ Hermione hadn't been quite careful enough, and the younger girl had added up that she was mooning like a silly twit over a boy. Not only that, Hermione realised, but Ginny had likely also figured out who the boy in question was, and knew that he was Severus Snape, albeit a younger version. How utterly mortifying.

Hermione gave her friend a beseeching look as a clueless Ron inquired, "Is that so? What's your theory, then?"

Ginny lifted a brow at her silent plea, stuck out her tongue at her brother, and responded cheerily, "That's for me to know, and you to discover!"

Hermione let out her breath in a soft sigh of relief. She hadn't yet figured out how to precisely tell the boys that she had started a relationship over the summer. She did know, however, that it would be better coming from her than someone else, and that she would have to do it in the next hour or so. There would be no hiding it when she asked to meet up with Atreus in Diagon Alley, and they would be far more likely to behave at least marginally well if they were prepared ahead of time for it. Yet…yet Hermione couldn't help but feel apprehensive at the prospect.

Hermione chewed on her lip, trying to figure out the best way to explain that she had a _boyfriend,_ and she would very much appreciate them not acting like complete arses to him. Molly Weasley interrupted her thoughts, bustling into the living room and waving her wand a bit like a conducting baton.

"Come, come, you four, time to go! We have a busy day ahead of us, and Diagon Alley is bound to be packed, this close to the start of school. We'll have to arrive earlier than usual if we're to spend any time with your brothers at all and Daisy Brown is to meet us with her daughter at Pelwyn's Tea House for lunch. She's in your year, isn't she? Lavender? Such a nice girl. I'm not sure why we've never had her over to spend time with you girls." Ginny grimaced behind her mother's back and Hermione laughed silently in response.

Molly caught Hermione's smile, and smiled back happily, misunderstanding the expression to be one of pleasure at the prospect of Lavender Brown's company. To Hermione's horror, the Weasley matron winked, and continued blithely, "Perhaps she will be able to worm the details out of our Hermione about her new young man."

The boys gaped, and Ginny winced in sympathy. Everyone was silent for a long moment, until an apologetic look stole across Mrs. Weasley's face. "I'm so sorry dear, you three are so close, I thought they would have already known by now. I heard it from Tonks at the last Order meeting how you seemed to be getting along exceptionally well with him."

At this affirmation, and Hermione's lack of denial, Harry opened and closed his mouth several times and Ron finally burst out, "There's a _bloke?"_

The frank incredulity in his tone and on his face made Hermione's irritation rise. "Honestly, Ronald," she snapped, "it isn't as if I'm completely unattractive, or without feelings. Just because _you're_ not interested doesn't mean no one else is, and I _like_ him."

"I never said…" Ron mumbled, and then shot her a wounded, betrayed look.

"How did you meet him?" Harry asked suddenly, his green eyes sharp.

Hermione tried not to squirm. "We thought it best if my parents went into hiding, considering the situation, so I've stayed for a little bit at Number Twelve. He's been staying there too, until school starts. He's coming to Hogwarts." Her attention turned to Mrs. Weasley. "I didn't want to presume…"

The woman smiled at her reassuringly. "That's very polite of you dear, but of course you would have been welcome here, I would hope you know that."

Hermione ducked her head, not wanting to explain that she hadn't _wanted_ to spend nearly the entirety of her summer at the Burrow. Tactfully, she inquired instead, "We were planning to meet up at Flourish and Blotts—do you mind horribly?"

"No, dear, of course not." She patted Hermione's shoulder and reached for the Floo pot, handing out small handfuls to each of them. "We can invite him and whomever is accompanying him along for lunch with the Browns! Won't that be lovely!"

As she watched the woman spin through the Floo to Diagon Alley, Hermione felt her stomach sink. Lunch with Harry, Ron, Ginny, Atreus, _Lavender_ and three adult ladies sounded rather like an unmitigated disaster to her. Her day was rapidly crumbling from the excitement of seeing Atreus again to horror.

Feeling slightly desperate, she pleaded to her friends, _"Please_ try to get along with him; I really like him."

Ginny answered immediately, "Of course we will, Hermione." She gave her brother a pointed look. "Won't we, Ron, Harry? Anyone you like is bound to be brilliant, and you were completely supportive of Harry when he botched things with Cho. _Right,_ Ron?"

Ron gave Hermione a sullen look and pushed passed his sister to follow his mother into the Floo, disappearing after a small mutter. Hermione's heart sank further.

Harry looked uncomfortable, smiled weakly, and responded unconvincingly. "Yeah…yeah, sure, of course." He followed Ron through the Floo a moment later, leaving Hermione feeling slightly nauseous.

Ginny rounded on her. "Have you kissed him? Wait, don't answer that, I'm not sure if I want to think about you kissing, you know, _Professor Snape."_ She chewed on her lip indecisively, and then just as suddenly said, "Yes, I do—He's got an incredible voice; I could listen to him read the dictionary. Have you kissed him? Is he any good? Does he concentrate as much doing that as he does with his potions stuff? I bet he's bloody good at snogging if he does."

"He's the professor's nephew, and his name is _Atreus,_ Ginny! And the two of you have _never met,_ remember?" Hermione said fiercely, feeling her cheeks heat.

"Oh-ho! He _is."_ The younger girl's eyes danced. "We'll have to compare notes on him and Michael tonight, after we're alone again. Not that we're still together—he was a complete arse—but he was very good at kissing!" She grinned widely, and practically skipped into the Floo, completely missing the almost inaudible whimper Hermione was unable to hold in at her suggestion.

* * *

><p><em>Diagon Alley, London, 23 August 1996, 11:45 AM<em>

Ron spent the morning surly and sullen, actively ignoring Hermione but for the occasional glare and forcibly attempting to monopolise Harry's attention. Harry, for his part, kept shooting her awkward and apologetic glances. He looked like he wanted to ask questions but was afraid of setting Ron off.

After visiting their respective vaults in Gringotts, their small group headed toward Madam Malkin's. Harry finally cleared his throat, and transparently attempting to thaw the increasingly frosty atmosphere, ventured, "So…this bloke of yours, does he play Quidditch?"

Hermione smiled brilliantly at him, grateful that he was at least _trying,_ and opened her mouth to respond. She was left with her mouth hanging open when she realised she didn't actually know the answer. Furiously she thought back; he had never really expressed an interest in Quidditch in particular, but the Professor had refereed a game in their first year, so clearly he _could_ play and was interested enough to know all the rules.

"We haven't actually discussed it, much." Hermione admitted, "You know I'm not the biggest fan, so it never really came up." She darted a look at Ron, and continued, "He plays chess, though—he's really good at it."

Ron sneered in return, and Harry smiled weakly. After a moment, he tried valiantly again, "So where is he from? I mean, where did he go to school before?"

Hermione felt herself brighten again, relieved, and launched into the background she and Atreus had come up with together. "Beauxbatons. His parents…uh, they died in May, and now his uncle has custody, so he's going to be coming to Hogwarts." It had seemed the best choice, considering that Atreus already spoke French, if not quite as well as the story implied.

Ron finally interjected. "He's _French?_ What is it with you and foreign guys? Are we not good enough for you, Hermione?" His lip curled and his arms folded.

Hermione glared and shook her head. "Stop being so defensive, Ron! I might have expressed an interest in someone that goes to Hogwarts if anyone had _bothered_ to express an interest in _me,"_ she retorted. "And for your information, Atreus' father was British; he was born and raised here. His mum is French, so he went to school there."

Ron let out a disgruntled snort in reply, just as they entered Madam Malkin's, but then conversation was no longer possible. The next few hours or so were taken up in a flurry of noise and fabric—the shop was busy, and it was discovered that both the boys had shot up over the summer by an inch or two.

By the time they had finished outfitting their group with what they needed for the upcoming school year, they only had a couple of hours or so left before lunch. As they left the shop, they nearly ran into Draco Malfoy and his mother entering. The woman's nose lifted in distaste, and Draco commented rudely on the smell of Mudbloods, directing a supercilious look at Hermione. Only Mrs. Weasley's firm grip on her son's collar and daughter's arm kept them moving smoothly out the door.

"The _nerve,"_ Ron seethed, temporarily forgetting his ire towards Hermione when confronted with a common enemy. "How dare he say things like that? You should have let me say something," he groused at his mother.

"We cannot control other people's poor behaviour, but we can control our own. I'll not have my children starting public arguments, especially not while the situation is so precarious." Mrs. Weasley gave her son a stern look, "Can you not see how many shops are closed, how frightened people are? Causing a scene could very well be the bad stir that sets off the cauldron explosion. Worse, it brings attention to us from the sort of people that we could just as well do without, Ronald Weasley."

The redhead muttered under his breath uncharitably, but finally nodded assent. Her point made, Mrs. Weasley glanced between Slug and Jiggers and Wiseacre's, clearly debating if they had time to get in and out of both before lunch. Hermione ventured, "Ginny and I are the only ones who need things from Slug and Jiggers, since the boys aren't taking Potions this year; why don't you send us in with the list while you three go to Wiseacres, and we'll all meet up at Flourish and Blotts before lunch?

Mrs. Weasley hesitated a bit further, eyeing a few of the shabby stalls and boarded up storefronts that had appeared over the summer. Her reluctance to leave any of them alone was palpable.

"Look," said Ginny, "isn't that Professor Vector in Slug and Jiggers? We'll be _fine,_ mum. We'll meet you at Flourish and Blotts, we won't be more than half an hour."

Mrs. Weasley eyed the window of the shop again, and then finally nodded, briskly motioning for the boys to follow her down the street towards the all-purpose supply store. Ginny grinned at Hermione, pleased that they had been left on their own in Diagon Alley, and tugged her towards the shop.

Professor Vector was indeed inside, and she seemed to be on her own. It was, Hermione realised, the perfect opportunity for her to ask her about Unspeakable Damian Vector, and what she might know of him, provided Ginny didn't stick to her side. The professor would speak with her, she was sure of it. Arithmancy was her favourite class, and the strict professor often shared friendly conversations with Hermione outside of class.

A bell jingled over the door as the two girls entered, and Ginny surprised her by saying first, "You grab what you need and I'll get mine. Meet you at the till, alright?" She barely waited for Hermione's nod before wandering off toward the back of the narrow, but deep shop.

Shrugging a little at her good fortune, Hermione approached her professor. "Professor Vector!" she exclaimed. "Hi!"

The woman turned, surprised, and then smiled as she saw her top student approach. "Hello, Hermione. Shopping for school, today?"

Hermione nodded. "Yes, you?"

"I'm picking up a few things, yes. My N.E.W.T. classes will be studying the practical applications of Arithmancy to potions work. You will be taking my class again this year, I hope?"

"Oh, absolutely!" Hermione enthused. "It's my favourite subject. I wanted to ask you—I was introduced to a Damian Vector over the summer; is he a relative of yours?"

Her instructor looked taken aback. "Ah, yes. Yes, he's a cousin of sorts. I'm surprised, however that he would…" Professor Vector's voice trailed off and she shook herself. Her dark blue eyes focused on Hermione with laser-sharp precision, before asking probingly, "You met at the British Museum, I imagine?"

Suddenly getting the feeling that the answer to this particular question was more important than she knew, Hermione jerked her head in a nod, and affirmed, "Y-yes. Yes, of course. He's very interesting." _The British Museum?_ What would Unspeakable Damian Vector have to do with the British Museum?

Nonetheless, Hermione's professor seemed to relax slightly. Her expression was still a bit troubled, however and she said reluctantly, "These are dangerous times, Hermione, and unfortunately, we can't always be certain whom we can trust and those whom we cannot. My cousin has always been brilliant and charismatic, but also a bit unpredictable and wild. I do not think he would be appropriate company for a witch like yourself."

Hermione nodded, her mind whirling. "Of course, Professor. It was a one-time occurrence; I doubt we'll run into each other again." _Until I manage to go to the British Museum, at any rate._ Aloud, she said, "It was lovely to see you; I'll see you in class, Professor!"

She quickly gathered what things she needed, lingering indecisively by the contraceptive potions, embarrassed. Should she grab a couple? She wasn't quite ready for _that_ yet, no matter how nice kissing Atreus was, but it was better to be prepared than not, wasn't it? Hermione turned away from the shelves. Surely one of them could brew one when the time came.

Hermione stopped in her tracks as a sudden thought hit her. If they didn't have access to the right components, she wouldn't have this chance to buy one without adult supervision again. Hermione dithered. She had been told that Madame Pomfrey kept a stock, but how embarrassing would it be to ask, especially for Atreus, since she was something of a surrogate parent figure to him?

Hermione was still shifting her weight back and forth between leaving the aisle and grabbing a couple of bottles before she left, when Ginny found her. "I'm _so_ glad we talked mum into going with the boys. I would never have gotten the chance to get these." The younger girl's eyes rolled, and she dumped several doses into her shopping basket. "Can you imagine her _face?"_

Hermione felt her mouth drop. "Ginny, are you—? I didn't know you were—!"

"Oh, I'm not, I mean, not _all the way,_ you know? But it doesn't hurt to not be stupid, you know? You should get one or two, as well."

Hermione flushed, but felt a little less self-conscious adding them. The two girls made their way to the counter and paid for their purchases. Hermione thought her face might explode into flame, but the spotty-faced clerk behind the register didn't change expression at all. How many teenagers must he ring up contraceptives for that it didn't faze him at all? Were _all_ the older students at Hogwarts having sex?

Ginny giggled as they left Slug and Jiggers and headed towards Flourish and Blotts. "Hermione, stop looking so guilty. Mum will know for sure."

"He didn't seem to care at all, though. The clerk, I mean."

"Well, of course not. He's barely out of Hogwarts himself, I wager, and a _bloke._ He wouldn't want girls to think he wasn't cool about it, or something. Besides, he _does_ work in an apothecary, and it _is_ a popular potion. He probably _isn't_ embarrassed by it."

"Even though we were clearly school shopping? Do you think everyone is really, you know, having sex?" Hermione said it on a whisper, slightly nervous that despite all logic, Molly Weasley would somehow hear the conversation.

Ginny actually rolled her eyes. "I doubt it. It's one of those things, I think, you know? Where everyone in school thinks everyone else is, and everyone buys the potion thinking _maybe,_ but it probably actually doesn't really happen that much at all. I mean, really, we've all known each other since we were eleven. It makes even the larger classes seem small."

Hermione nodded, thoughtfully. "We're all in each other's business; it'd be a hard thing to keep totally quiet about, especially for the blokes."

"Exactly." Ginny gave a wicked smile. "Doesn't stop them from hoping though, or the girls from buying 'just in case.'"

Hermione grinned back, and the two pushed their way into the busy Flourish and Blotts. The store was busy, though not quite as bad as it had been in years past. Hermione pulled her book list from her bag and studied it, idly winding her way through the store to the textbook section. Ginny followed, fussing with her bag a bit, chattering in general about school and summer gossip she had gleaned.

They found the boys at the end of an aisle, tensely staring beyond the end cap at something out of sight. Ron's expression was menacing, and Harry actually had his wand out, pointed tensely. Eyes wide, her own hand flying to the handle of her wand, Hermione shifted to the left behind the boys for a better view, only to find that on the business end of Harry's wand, his own wand out threateningly, was Atreus.

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><p><em>AN: So many things to report! First of all, I would like to give a special thanks to the amazing people who have been so patient during the last couple months while my attention was stolen away by the SSHG prompt exchange. Keep an eye out-there are some amazing fics and art being posted-see if you can figure out what's mine by the end of the month!_

_I would particularly like to send heartfelt thanks to ThornedHuntress and Nathaniel Cardeu (my insanity handlers), and the amazing folks who reviewed-THANK YOU so much._

_Secondly: I was informed this morning that I won first place at the HPFanFicFanPollAwards on live journal for "Best Romance Story" in their Harmony category for"Hermione's Favourite Gift." Thank you to my mysterious nominator and those who voted for me; you blew me away and humbled me!_

_Thirdly, speaking of "Hermione's Favourite Gift," it was also chosen to be podcast on this round of the HP Pod Fics along with my story "Of Felines and Family," read by my dear friend and banner artist, SusanMarieR and Finalbos!_

_Lastly: I received some new and fantastic fan art from Ekr, who's talent had my jaw on the floor! Please stop by Ekr's Deviant Art page and mention how awesome it is (link is on my profile)!_


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary:** A time travel story. When fifth-year Severus Snape tries to create a forward time-travelling philter to prove his worthiness to Lord Voldemort, he is disappointed to find that his creation is worthless. Or is it?

**Disclaimer:** All recognizable characters and fictional places do not belong to me; I am merely borrowing them for playtime before (respectfully) putting them back. Thank you, JKR, for allowing such things to happen.

**Pairings/Main Characters** Hermione Granger and Severus Snape, the other Severus Snape. A cast of other canon characters and couple of OFCs as well.

**Warnings:** This story is rated NC-17/MA, and it is not suitable for children under age 18. It is Alternate Universe, and includes strong language, lemons (graphic sex), violence and mention of violence/torture, unresolved sexual tension, and major character death.

**Thank You:** To the village that has raised this baby over the course of several chapters: Roo, Tom Without, Allee, Lauren, Nathaniel Cardeau and ThornedHuntress. Additional thanks to my current amazing "Team Tyche," who have listened to me bounce ideas and have cleaned up my writing, making this story so, so much more than it would have been otherwise: Dragoon811, BSC_AG, AdelaideArcher and Stgulik.

A thousand further thank yous to the extremely talented SusanMarieR, who created the official banner and cover art for this piece.

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><p><strong>SEVERUS, REDUX<strong>_**  
><strong>_**By: TycheSong**

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><p><strong>Chapter Sixteen:<strong> _(In which Atreus makes the acquaintance of Hermione's friends and an awkward lunch is had by all)_

Diagon Alley, London, 23 August 1996, 12:16 PM

It always seemed to come back to this. He had promised to play nice—and he hadn't done a damn thing—yet somehow he always ended up with Potter and a friend or three sticking their wands in his face. He would most likely take the blame _this_ time, too. Never mind that he felt like death and had been entirely engrossed in the IGPA's Published _Master and Grand Master Class Level Dissertations-1995 Vol 2._

"You!" The venomous exclamation jerked him away from the sentence he was picking his way through. The polished holly only a few inches from his face had him dropping the dry, heavy book and pulling his own wand hastily. He stumbled back for a bit more room, swearing softly as his vision blurred slightly and the floor tilted. He only barely kept his balance, and when he pointed his wand back at the boy who had popped out from the nearby aisle, it wavered slightly. Fucking head cold was going to get him killed.

Behind Potter, the red-headed boy laid a hand on his own wand hilt threateningly. Severus prepared himself to cast a Shielding charm—he wasn't stupid enough to actually hex in public—but in his current condition, he was truthfully uncertain that he would be able to cast _anything._

_At least Potter would get expelled._ Using magic underage outside of school to hex an innocent bystander in front of the many witnesses that were in this shop was certain academic suicide. Not even Dumbledore would be able to save him.

Hermione's friend or not, it would be one less thing to have to deal with. He had enough on his plate, really, with being dumped in a new time, new allegiances, a _girlfriend_ of all things, and some weird strain of influenza that wouldn't go away regardless of how many Pepper-Up Potions he'd taken. Maybe if he were lucky, whatever Potter hexed him with would put him out of his misery.

Instead of actually following through on his wand-threat, however, Potter merely glared, and said tightly, "I saw you at Hogwarts, just before school ended. You hexed me in the hall." His wand was steady, pointing neatly between Severus' eyes, but remained quiescent. Perversely, Severus found himself disappointed. Seeing Potter expelled before class even began would have been a bright spot to his otherwise miserable morning. Unfortunately, Potter was apparently not going to actually participate in his own demise, the arsehole.

Taking his cue from the other boy, Severus lifted the edge of one lip in a sneer and met Potter's gaze unflinchingly. Like facing off with a hippogriff, it was the only thing to do with a Gryffindor, really. Unfortunately, staring straight at Potter made it impossible to ignore something any longer.

Green eyes.

His eyes were achingly familiar. The almost mirror-image of James Potter that stood before him had eyes that should have _never_ belonged in that face, and Severus felt like he had been kicked in the stomach. He could have nearly stood it if Lily had chosen anyone—_anyone_—else. Severus' wand wavered slightly, but visibly, and he saw the red-head's forehead crease slightly. Fucking fantastic. Now the hippogriffs—er, Gryffindors—would charge or something, he thought irrationally.

Instead, the other boy dropped his hand from his wand hilt and looked uncertain. "Harry," he started, but before he could continue, their stand-off was interrupted as Hermione and another girl suddenly appeared over Potter's other shoulder.

"Harry! Atreus! Stop it this _instant!_ You both _promised."_ Hermione forcibly shoved her way between Potter and the red-headed boy, and yanked Potter's wand arm down.

The girl who had been impatiently trying to see around Hermione let out a soft screech and immediately joined Hermione. "Harry, what are you doing? Put that away, we're in public. You can't just go pointing that at people! You of all people should know better!" She poked her finger into Potter's chest forcefully, making him wince slightly. She looked familiar, but Severus couldn't put his finger on precisely where he had seen her before.

His head swam a little, and he found himself letting out a relieved breath that he wouldn't have to muster the energy to defend himself. Severus lowered his own wand, and tucked it back into his sleeve. His pride stung a little that he was being saved from what certainly lost battle by a couple of girls; Severus deliberately and literally bit his tongue.

The sense of déjà vu he felt watching the red-headed girl tell off Potter on his behalf actually made him wonder briefly if he was hallucinating the whole stuck-in-a-future-time situation. At any second Potter would decide that the best course of action was to bare Severus' prick to the world in a humiliating show of dominance again.

It was ironic, really. It felt like life was handing him some sort of epic moment of possible redemption for the way he had screwed everything up the first time, and he really just wanted to go back to bed. Or at least give in to the urgent need to sit down before he fell down. Not in front of Potter, though. He'd be _damned_ if he looked weak in front of Potter.

Madam Pomfrey hadn't even wanted him to come to Diagon Alley today—when he and his latest Order babysitter had met her at the Leaky Cauldron for her to escort him in gathering school supplies, she had vigorously and loudly protested that he needed to go to the infirmary, or perhaps even St. Mungo's. The same pure, bullheaded stubbornness that kept him standing now had finally talked her into letting him go on this shopping trip, but she had spent the entire time so far with pursed, disapproving lips, and had asked him every ten minutes if he needed to sit down. He hadn't thought he looked that bad, even if he did feel trampled by a herd of centaurs.

Centaurs. _That's_ where he had seen the redhead before—in the hospital wing. She had gone to the Ministry with Hermione the night The Arse had died, and had been injured in some way. Hermione had indicated during their conversation that she might have overheard them. Severus gave her a sharp look, searching for any sign of dissimulation.

She seemed completely oblivious to his presence, however. She was still glaring at Potter, who had reluctantly—miracle of miracles—lowered his wand. He kept shifting his attention between her and Hermione, whose hair looked like it was actually bristling with her irritation.

Hermione hadn't spared a glance in his direction either; no hello, no kiss, no _nothing,_ even after a full _month_ apart. He may not have had a girlfriend before, but he'd seen other classmates pairing off and he was fairly sure he was supposed to have received a more affectionate greeting than he had gotten. Severus scowled at the two girls' backs, feeling neglected and abused in general.

Grumpily, he eyed the book he'd dropped, and stooped to pick it up, concentrating on not letting the floor tilt again. His treatment, and that of the book, had settled him into a thoroughly foul mood, and at this point he was ready to just stalk off and leave the lot of them for his bed after all.

Almost as if she were _trying_ to raise his ire further, Hermione laid a hand on Potter's arm, and turned to look at Severus, her eyes slightly pleading. "Why don't we all just take a moment to breathe, introduce each other properly, and have a civilised lunch together?"

Severus felt his brow quirk cynically in reflex, and Potter actually scowled at Hermione. "No," Potter said firmly, shrugging Hermione's hand off his crossed arms, bringing those damnable eyes of his back to Severus as if he were trying to punch holes through him with it. "He still hasn't explained why he would have hexed me at Hogwarts if he supposedly didn't know me and wasn't working for Voldemort."

Severus felt his lip curl. "I haven't _explained_ because I have no idea what you are talking about. I haven't been to Hogwarts before." Severus lied without compunction, knowing the other boy hadn't a shred of proof that he had been in the hallway that night. The only two people who could say otherwise were his own older self, and—

"Yes you did! You caught me with a burn hex of some sort right across the thigh. Hermione remembers, she saw me that night, right?" Potter turned to look at Hermione, who was now biting her lip and giving Severus an uneasy look.

"Well… Harry, I saw the burn, but I wasn't really there when it happened…" She prevaricated, her voice trailing off weakly under Potter's glare.

"It was him. I _know_ it was." Potter asserted forcefully, swinging his gaze back to Severus challengingly.

"If you like, once we are all in school for the year, you can take the matter up with my uncle. He can attest that I have not been to Hogwarts." Severus feigned a bored look down at his book, idly brushing off non-existent dirt from the cover.

"Snape." Potter scoffed, in _exactly_ the same derisive tone of voice that his father had used at the same age. The red-headed boy nodded in agreement, his own expression scornful.

Severus drew himself up to every inch of height he could claim and looked down his nose at the two of them. "You would doubt the word of one of your _professors,_ Potter? I certainly don't—so far you are proving just as he claimed: an inept, bumbling hot-head."

"Atreus!" Hermione snapped. "Stop antagonising him!"

Just whose side was she on, anyway? Severus felt his lips curl. He was apparently good enough when locked up under virtual house arrest, but now that she had her _Gryffindor_ friends back, clearly things were different. Just like he had been at Hogwarts, he had the sinking feeling that he was about to become her dirty little secret. He refused to admit to himself how much that actually hurt.

Gripping his book tightly, he was about to turn and leave them all, only to find Mrs. Weasley bearing down on their little group with a tall blonde and another girl that appeared to be their age in tow.

"Ahh! There you all are!" The woman beamed, apparently oblivious to the tension. Severus glanced back over at the others only to find them all with innocent expressions and their wands tucked away, though Potter did shoot him a dark look. Mrs. Weasley bestowed a bright smile on him and continued, "You must be Professor Snape's nephew, Atreus; I've heard so much from Tonks about you, poor dear. Is that who is with you today, or are you with your uncle?"

Severus found himself shaking his head. "Professor Snape arranged for the school nurse to escort me today; he had a prior responsibility."

"You call your uncle 'Professor?'" The blonde girl interjected, curiosity lighting her brown eyes.

Severus crossed his arms over his chest and pursed his lips. "I have only recently become acquainted with the professor—he and my father were not close. I have been informed not to expect preferential treatment, and that I was not to call him 'Uncle Severus' on pain of detention."

The girl tactlessly muttered something along the lines of Professor Snape _really_ being a git to _everyone,_ and above her head, Mrs. Weasley's mouth tightened in disapproval. Whether it was for the girl's comment or Severus' he was not certain, for she immediately tried to steer the conversation back into a safer subject than Atreus' supposedly recently deceased parents and moody 'uncle.'

"I see Hermione has already introduced you to Harry, Ron and Ginny. This is Daisy Brown and her daughter Lavender; she's in Gryffindor too. I'm sure you'll all be splendid friends! Where is Madam Pomfrey? The two of you must join us for lunch."

Severus thought longingly of his bed, and how he would _really_ rather not spend more time in the company of Potter and Co. Especially since Hermione appeared to be having doubts about being with him in front of her friends. Severus hunched his shoulders, muttering, "I wouldn't want to disrupt your plans. We still have some stops left, actually, and—"

"Nonsense!" Mrs. Weasley's hand cut through the air decisively, "You would certainly not be 'disrupting' anything; the more the merrier! I know Hermione has been looking forward to seeing you again, as well. Now, just direct me to Madam Pomfrey so I can extend a proper invitation to you both."

Grudgingly, but uncertain what else to do, Severus pointed his chin in the direction of the front counter. "She was having a book ordered in at the desk, last I saw."

Mrs. Weasley and Mrs. Brown trooped off in that direction, leaving the awkward group of teenagers to straggle behind, whole conversations shooting between them in a myriad of frowning glances and false smiles. It was the blonde—Lavender—who finally broke the stilted silence, sidling up to the Weasley boy and looping an arm through his, to his obvious surprise.

She directed a patently false smile at Hermione and asked sweetly, "So you and Atreus are, err, together, then?" Her voice implied doubt as she flicked her gaze over Hermione, and then she glanced at Severus. He felt her assess him and just as quickly dismiss him, before her eyes shot back to Weasley. They fluttered slightly and she continued. "That's… nice. I've always preferred the athletic sort, myself."

Weasley looked rather pleased by this comment and his chest actually puffed out a bit. Rather like a baboon, Severus thought sourly. He was used to getting that sort of dismissal from girls, but found himself grinding his newly-straightened teeth anyway.

He shot a glance at his girlfriend, waiting for her acidic retort defending her own choice over Weasley. Hermione… Hermione appeared to be absolutely furious, but didn't say anything, nor did she actually confirm that they were _together_ as Lavender put it—she just glared daggers at _Weasley._ Severus felt his heart sink further into his stomach. Clearly, despite whatever Mrs. Weasley thought, Lavender Brown was _not_ a close friend of Hermione's at all. Just as clearly, Lavender's interest in Weasley was upsetting.

Severus felt himself grow defensive again. Had Hermione just been playing with him out of boredom? Or possibly using him to make Weasley jealous? He studied the other boy again, and caught a slightly smug look on Lavender's face from under her lowered lashes. She wasn't nearly as vapid as she pretended to be, he guessed, and found his hands clenching around his chosen book again as Hermione linked her own arm through his with a challenging look in the other girl's direction. She was obviously doing it for their benefit, not his, and his feeling of mistreatment grew.

His unease and foul mood had not diminished in the slightest by the time they were all seated about a table at Pelwyn's Tea House a half-hour later. It hadn't helped in the slightest that Madam Pomfrey had asked after his health again in front of everybody, and left him with a potion to drink with his meal before taking herself off to the smaller, adjacent table where the three adults had chosen to sit. Honestly, Severus wasn't certain how much more damage his dignity could take in one afternoon before he flat out begged to be taken back to Number Twelve, or even his boring, much smaller room at Hogwarts.

Lavender continued to flirt obnoxiously with Weasley, who seemed to be lapping up the attention like a puppy. Finally, his sister turned to Severus and asked loudly, "So, what's your favourite subject, Atreus?"

Hermione gave the red-headed girl—_what_ was her name?—a grateful look as Severus considered the question for a moment. He was excellent at both Potions and Defence, but it was not perhaps in his best interest to say Potions, considering that he was supposed to be a different person than his 'uncle.' It was probably better to distance himself a bit to keep the parallels from continuously popping up. Mind made up, he answered firmly, "Defence Against the Dark Arts."

"That's Harry's best subject, too," Hermione offered. "And chess. Atreus is really good at chess—wasn't I saying that you had that in common this morning, Ron?" Severus fought against wincing. Hermione had absolutely no subtlety at all.

Weasley didn't seem to notice. He shrugged and kept his attention on his new flirtation, who responded instead. "Perhaps you'll be able to help Hermione in Defence, then, Atreus," Lavender shot another false smile across the table, "Defence is her worst subject."

Judging by her white knuckles, Severus would not have been surprised to see Hermione's fork bend in half under her grip as she replied through gritted teeth, "I do perfectly well in Defence, Lavender."

The blonde waved her own fork about casually and responded blithely, "but you have to admit, you don't do quite as well there as in your other classes."

"No one is perfect at everything, Hermione, even you." Weasley put in, talking around a mouthful of sandwich.

Lavender beamed at him, and Hermione actually _growled_ low in her throat. She looked ready to shove the fork still clenched in her fist through the other girl's eye. Entertaining as that might end up being, it probably was a good idea to change the subject. Clearing his throat, Severus ventured, "What's your _best_ subject, Hermione?"

Her eyes shot to him and she visibly relaxed a little. "I think I like Arithmancy best. Or possibly Ancient Runes."

"Hermione doesn't really have a _best_ subject," Potter interjected, apparently deciding to join the Calm-Hermione-Down-Cause. "She's got the top marks in _all_ of them. She's Hogwarts' resident genius."

Lavender, however, appeared to be like a dog with a bone, and wouldn't let her point go. "Except Defence, though, yeah? I mean, Hermione is definitely the top student at Hogwarts, that's uncontested even by the most dedicated Ravenclaw." She shrugged as if embarrassed and said seriously to Severus, "I think she has trouble actually connecting with her magic at a basic level, though; you know—feeling it as a part of herself properly, which is so _important_ for subjects like Defence. That's why she failed Divination—it's all books to her and not enough a _part_ of her. Probably because she's Muggleborn."

Hermione's mouth fell open in time with Potter's sharply indrawn breath, and even Weasley looked uncomfortable.

The Weasley girl objected angrily, "Lavender! I cannot _believe_ you just said that! You know we don't hold with that sort of attitude."

Lavender gave the rest of the table a wounded look. "Oh you know I didn't mean it _that_ way—you all know better than anyone I don't have anything against Muggleborns. But before Hogwarts, they do grow up afraid of their magic more often than not, instead of embracing it. They usually _try_ to distance themselves instead of bonding with it properly." She lifted a patronising hand and continued, "It's not their fault, and it doesn't make them worth _less_—just not as good at some subjects."

Severus bit back a comment that _might_ have been misconstrued as agreement. Agreeing with the vicious blonde would clearly do him no favours, even if her argument actually did make some sense. How often had he felt that his own classmates didn't understand Defence or Potions the way he did, simply because they didn't _feel_ it like he did?

Potter gave Lavender a stiff look and objected, "I grew up in a Muggle household, but Defence is my best subject."

Lavender sipped from her water glass and answered mildly, "Yes, but let's be honest here, you've been pushed to focus and put more effort into that subject than any of the others, and you aren't a natural academic like Hermione to excel without trying in the drier bookish subjects. You're like Ron," she squeezed the arm of the redhead next to her. "More of a… physical sort."

"And yet, Hermione's Defence mark is still better than yours, Lavender." The Weasley girl retorted.

"It isn't." Lavender shook her head in denial, and smiled. "Not where it _counts._ She got and E on her Defence O.W.L., the same as me. Ron told me, right?" The girl actually batted her eyes at Weasley, smiled back at her beatifically.

"The same as _I."_ Severus found himself correcting, irritated in general with the entire table, and ready to set the blonde down a peg. "Hermione at least speaks proper English."

Hermione wasn't paying attention to him, however. Her gaze still focused on the red-headed idiot across the table. "You told her my O.W.L. scores?"

Weasley shook his head, a panicked look on his face. "We were just _talking,_ Hermione, and everyone's scores came up."

Severus stood abruptly, unable to force himself to take any more. "Lovely as meeting Hermione's _friends_ has been," he said sarcastically, "I am not actually feeling particularly well, and will take my leave for now. I'll see you all when term starts." He squeezed Hermione's shoulder briefly—until she actually _said_ so, he was going to assert their relationship, she was the bloody Gryffindor, after all. He wasn't going to let her just take the coward's way out and ignore him until he left.

Madam Pomfrey took almost no convincing at the other table that he was ill enough to leave early, and in short order Severus found himself Side-along Apparating to the castle grounds and herded back toward the infirmary.

School would resume in just over a week.

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><p><em>AN: Okay. It has admittedly been a very long time since this story has updated, and for that, I apologize. I swear my excuses are good, though! I've had the standard writers block trouble most of us get from time to time, and a plethora of changes in my life this last year. For those of you who did not realize, I have been pregnant. On top of that, I spent most of my second trimester working about fifty hours a week. My Mormor (maternal grandmother) passed away in September, followed by a series of moves by my grandfather. My baby girl was born in March exactly a week before what would have been Mormor's 86th birthday. Recently my fledgling family has also started looking for our first house. So it's been busy._

_On a good note, Stgulik has very generously offered to beta for me at this point-so you will hopefully be seeing a bit more consistency and writing improvement out of me. :-) I cannot thank you all enough for your patience-both in your willingness to wait for my updates and your patience as I am incredibly incredibly far behind in responding to reviews. I cannot promise to always update quickly, but I swear I have not (and will not) abandon this story. Once again, thank you all very much for your well wishes and feedback-I appreciate them more than I can say!_

_-Tyche_


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary:** A time travel story. When fifth-year Severus Snape tries to create a forward time-travelling philter to prove his worthiness to Lord Voldemort, he is disappointed to find that his creation is worthless. Or is it?

**Disclaimer:** All recognizable characters and fictional places do not belong to me; I am merely borrowing them for playtime before (respectfully) putting them back. Thank you, JKR, for allowing such things to happen.

**Pairings/Main Characters** Hermione Granger and Severus Snape, the other Severus Snape. A cast of other canon characters and couple of OFCs as well.

**Warnings:** This story is rated NC-17/MA, and it is not suitable for children under age 18. It is Alternate Universe, and includes strong language, lemons (graphic sex), violence and mention of violence/torture, unresolved sexual tension, and major character death.

**Thank You:** To the village that has raised this baby over the course of several chapters: Roo, Tom Without, Allee, Lauren, Nathaniel Cardeau and ThornedHuntress. Additional thanks to my current amazing "Team Tyche," who have listened to me bounce ideas and have cleaned up my writing, making this story so, so much more than it would have been otherwise: Dragoon811, BSC_AG, AdelaideArcher and Stgulik.

A thousand further thank yous to the extremely talented SusanMarieR, who created the official banner and cover art for this piece.

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><p><strong>SEVERUS, REDUX<strong>_**  
><strong>_**By: TycheSong**

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><p><strong>Chapter Seventeen:<strong> _(In which Atreus is sorted into Ravenclaw and tempers fly)_

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, 1 September 1996, 09:09 PM_

Severus stood at the back of the Great Hall, attempting to put distance between himself and what felt like far, _far_ too many first years. He eyed the noisy, sticky little crowd with distaste, and tucked his robes closer around his body. Surely he had never been as silly and immature as this lot. One of the nosier boys had asked him point-blank why he was standing with them, but had thankfully not required an answer beyond a disdainful look.

After the disastrous outing to Diagon Alley, Madam Pomfrey had brought him back to Hogwarts for the remaining week of summer hols. His illness had shown almost immediate improvement. By his third day back in the castle, he was feeling completely normal again. The woman had muttered and fussed, running several diagnostic spells, but had finally released him from the hospital wing after a hushed argument with his elder counterpart.

He had not seen a great deal of the professor since returning to Hogwarts. The man had checked in on him the first day, looking rather ragged and worn out himself. He had not stayed long, disappearing when Madam Pomfrey had fussed at him. Since then he had only appeared sporadically, once to stiffly ask if he needed anything further, and once to apparently argue for his release.

When Severus had been ushered to the back of the Great Hall for sorting, he had shot a panicked look at the staff table, only to find the professor missing from his accustomed place. He had then turned to the headmaster, who had merely smiled benignly. He was apparently not very worried that the Sorting Hat might actually do its job and sort him into his honest house. One way or another, the hat must have been rigged to sort him into Ravenclaw.

He had rather expected them to just have him join the Ravenclaw table and explain that he had been sorted privately before the feast. Instead, it appeared that he was going to have to suffer the indignity of perching on that stool in front of everybody. Gods. He hadn't enjoyed that experience when he had been a firstie. It took effort to not visibly squirm at the prospect.

Discreetly grinding his teeth so that he wouldn't fidget, Severus waited impatiently through the sorting for "PRINCE, ATREUS" to be called. When it finally was, curious whispers exploded around him as he made his way to the front of the Hall. Feeling embarrassed and sour, Severus eased himself onto the stool and let Professor McGonagall lower the Sorting Hat onto his head.

"Hmmm…a very keen mind you have," the hat mused aloud. In his thoughts, the hat carried on a different conversation entirely, sounding almost… annoyed. _So, you again. I suppose I should have known it would be one of your sort when they told me I was to put you into Ravenclaw, regardless of what I found in here._

"One of my sort?" Severus whispered the question, barely moving his lips.

"You're ambitious, too, and certainly loyal… tricky, tricky, tricky." The hat continued to dramatically stall aloud.

_You didn't think you were the first student to fumble about with time, did you? Frankly, this guided re-sorting nonsense is getting tiresome. I do know what I am about—it is my very purpose, after all. Are you quite certain you wish to be in Ravenclaw?_

Severus had difficulty keeping his mouth from falling open. There had been other instances of time-travelling students? How extraordinary! He licked his lips; then said, "I'm not the first?"

_I just said as much, did I not? You're not even the first student to travel forward instead of backward. Though I must admit, there haven't been many of those. You lot seem to find it much more difficult. Quickly now, answer the question. You are certain of Ravenclaw?_

"You…you're asking me? Don't we have to do what the headmaster says?"

_It's always a choice. One that shapes lives. Most students don't even realize they are making it, but many of them already have their minds made up. Your headmaster very nearly ended up in Slytherin House._

"So you're saying we _all_ get to choose?"

_Essentially. So is it to be Ravenclaw?_

"It… it's probably for the best, considering." Severus mumbled reluctantly, his thoughts still whirling with the implications of the hat's words. As a result, the shouted "RAVENCLAW" very nearly deafened him and he startled badly enough that a ripple of laughter ran through the hall. Severus felt his cheeks heat, and slid off his perch quickly, nearly dropping the hat in his haste to put it back on the stool behind him.

In contrast, his walk to the Ravenclaw table was slow as he tried to figure out where he could sit. Typically, the sorted first years sat at the front, nearest to the staff table. The older the year, the further back down the line on the table one got to sit. Exchanging your seat for one further back was a Hogwarts student's rite of passage at the beginning of each year. There was no _way_ he was going to sit with the first years, but there was a good chance that there might not be room for him further back with his year mates.

His eyes darted, frantically searching down the table for even the smallest gap where he might squeeze in and force those around him to shift aside a bit. A small motion caught his eye, and to his relief it was a boy with a prefect badge lifting a hand and motioning to an empty place next to him. Relieved, Severus approached and the boy stood to greet him.

"Hullo, I'm Anthony, and that's Padma." The boy gestured to a pretty girl sitting across the table as the two boys sat again. He continued, his voice easy. "We're the sixth year prefects for Ravenclaw. We had a short meeting on the train here with the others and Professors Vector and Saxina mentioned another sixth year would be starting. I know it can be a bit overwhelming, but you'll get the hang of things quickly. The castle really is much smaller after a couple months. Just keep your grades up and your nose clean and you'll be just fine."

"Ravenclaw hasn't produced a single student with a failing grade in any class in twenty-four years," said Padma proudly, and then gave him a direct look. "If you have any trouble, all you need is to say so, and arrangements will be made to help with whatever is needed. Tutoring, shared class notes, extra reading material, study groups—"

"Or even just peace and quiet to get some extra sleep," Anthony interjected. "We take care of our own, and our Head, Professor Flitwick, is very understanding and reasonable. You'll be in far more trouble with the house if you need help and don't speak up, believe me." He gave a perfunctory nod. "It all turns about in the end. You will undoubtedly be good at something that someone else is struggling with and will be asked to help, too."

"Potions and Defence are my best subjects," Severus answered.

"Really?" Anthony smiled. "Brilliant! You see, we've—"

"Oh, shut it, Goldstein. Dumbledore's saying something." A beautiful, dark haired girl on the other side of Anthony cut him off, waving a hand at the front. They listened in polite, bored silence for a moment, and Severus noted idly that his elder version had returned to the table at some point. Then, the headmaster introduced their "new" Potions professor, come out of retirement.

_"Potions?"_ It seemed the word exploded out of every mouth around him, and reverberated around the hall in waves, followed by hushed conversations in which his name—Snape—featured prominently. Severus stared in stunned surprise at _his_ Potions master, Professor Slughorn, sitting at the staff table. The instructor's presence hadn't really registered with him earlier, but of course he was out of place in this time, when students were used to learning Potions from, well, _him._

Dumbledore cleared his throat and continued loudly. "Professor Snape, meanwhile will be taking over the position of Defence Against the Dark Arts."

The Slytherin table clapped politely as the rest of the hall exploded into the whispers again; one outraged "NO!" could be heard from the Gryffindor table. The professor raised a hand and acknowledged his house's applause, a faint smile twisting his lips.

Feeling pleased that the professor not only seemed happy with this turn of events, but that it was sticking in Potter's craw, Severus turned to the food that had appeared in front of him, and happily helped himself. Their table ate in silence for several minutes; it was nearing nine thirty, and everyone's last meal had been whatever they had brought on the train.

"So, Atreus. You play Quidditch?" He lifted his head from some incredibly delicious chicken dish to see that the beautiful girl on the other side of Anthony had leaned forward around the prefect and was staring at him. She gestured with her fork. "I've been named Captain this year, now that Davies has graduated, and we lost all three of our chasers. You've got the build for it. How are you on a broom?"

Severus shrugged uncomfortably, remembering his tryout for the Slytherin team at the start of third year. He had studied the sport's rules and strategies extensively, and had considered himself something of a shoo-in for the team based on his knowledge. He hadn't quite realized how difficult some of the manoeuvres actually were to accomplish. He understood the mechanics of them and the Quidditch players had always made it look so easy… He had been informed in no uncertain terms by his house that he was not to try out ever again.

"I'm only an adequate flier at best, to be honest," he said finally. "I'm good at game strategy, though, if you are looking for a fresh take on that sort of thing."

"Hmmmm." Her brows furrowed. "That's a pity. I may take you up on that help with formation coaching, though."

"Don't pay attention to Cho, she's convinced that Quidditch is the only extra-curricular activity worth thinking about. Hogwarts has lots of different clubs, though." Padma reassured. "There's both Chess and Gobstones, an Arithmalete team, the frog choir, a few bands, and Dean Thomas started a running group a couple years back. You'll want to join the DA, too, since you mentioned being good at Defence."

"The DA?" Severus repeated.

"It's a Defence and Duelling club of sorts that Potter and Granger started last year, when we had this really awful professor deny us any practical application practice."

"It's honestly a great Defence study group," Cho chimed in. "Harry is good at explaining and teaching—he's even good with the younger years."

Opposite Cho, a girl with an increasingly sour expression slammed her glass down on the table loudly enough to make everyone near turn to look. She gave their group a scathing glance and grabbed an orange off the table.

Cho tilted her head to the side and said pleadingly, "Marietta, don't go. We'll change the subject."

"No need. I'm full." The girl spun on her heel and marched out of the Great Hall.

Cho winced, then murmured, "She's never properly forgiven me for sticking with the DA."

Severus looked questioningly at Anthony, who shrugged. "The professor we mentioned—the one who wouldn't teach practical application?—was given authority by the Ministry to ban all clubs. The DA was technically against the rules when it was formed, but we were all so desperate to not be helpless in the current climate…" His head wobbled back and forth.

"Anyway," continued Padma, "Granger cursed the sign-up list so that anyone who broke the oath of secrecy would get pretty severely hexed. It was for everyone's protection. Marietta snitched, and got what was coming. She was warned."

Cho retorted. "Professor Umbridge threatened Marietta's little sister; what was she supposed to do? Granger's hex has _permanently_ scarred her. Not even Madam Pomfrey has been able to fix it completely, and Granger refuses to lift the hex. The DA is a good club, Atreus, but I would strongly suggest staying away from Granger. She's bad news. It shouldn't be much of a problem. She's only into famous blokes anyway, like Victor Krum and Harry Potter." Bitterness leaked through Cho's tone.

Severus felt his eyebrows climb, and only barely kept from squirming in his seat. He felt as though he should speak up and defend Hermione. She was, technically, still his girlfriend, wasn't she? The story being told certainly didn't _sound_ like the funny, compassionate girl he'd got to know over the summer. He thought about it for a moment and then had to concede to himself that it _did,_ however, seem more in keeping with her behaviour in Diagon Alley, and with his older self's opinion of her.

He refocused on the conversation in time to hear Padma snapping at Cho. "She may have threatened her family, but Marietta still might have given the rest of us a head's-up before she went and spilled. Under the circumstances, Granger would probably have exempted her from the hex and we could have been sure to start meeting elsewhere. As it was, _fifteen_ students were caught and punished for learning how to defend themselves. _Fifteen,_ Cho. Seven of which were third years or younger! _They_ have permanent scars, too!" She turned and explained to Severus, "Professor Umbridge was fond of making students write lines with a blood quill."

Ah, this must be the same _that woman_ Hermione had mentioned at Grimmauld Place his first night here, the same one that she had tricked into Centaur territory. Severus toyed with his food for a moment, thinking. While the two prefects in his year did not seem to harbor any ill-will towards Hermione, the Quidditch captain a year above them clearly did, as did her friend. He would have to be careful. The headmaster might say that Hermione was the "perfect" person to introduce him to this time, but it was his housemates he would actually be living with. He had been given a second chance at Hogwarts—no one here knew his old reputation. Did he really want to spoil it because of a girl whose friends had already made up their minds to hate him? It might be better to cut his losses and integrate himself with the Ravenclaws around him.

_Isn't that where you went wrong with Lily?_

_Lily._ Severus felt his gut clench. It already felt like a betrayal of sorts that he had moved on to Hermione so quickly after she had—to him at least—died. Barely two months later and he had been kissing Hermione on the roof of his childhood nemesis' home. Severus mechanically chewed his food as he recalled that evening, and the benefits of having Hermione as his girlfriend. First of all, a _girlfriend._ He had never had one before—and it was rather nice just having one. It made him feel… proud of himself, in a strange way. Proud that there was a girl who wanted to be his girlfriend.

More than that, Hermione was soft, warm and smelled really good. She had snuggled against him and it had felt both wonderful and tortuous. She had a sharp mind and perfect little tits that she had actually let him touch through her sweater, and those low little sounds she had made in her throat were…

Severus shook himself, feeling his cheeks heat a bit as he suddenly realized that he had a rather insistent cockstand. Silently, he thanked whichever gods might be listening that the trousers he was wearing under his school robes would keep it from being noticeable when he stood. He chewed his lip a moment, wondering if he could somehow adjust the uncomfortable bulge without people realizing he had his hand in his pants.

Finally hitting on a solution, he turned to Anthony and said, "Look, mind telling me where the loo is?"

The boy swallowed his own food and gestured at the hall doors with his fork. "Yeah. Through the main doors, hang a right and it's the third or fourth door on the left—I'm afraid I forget which, but it's marked."

"Right, thanks." It was the third door, after a maintenance cupboard and the girls' loo, but he wasn't supposed to know that yet. Quickly he made his way out the door and towards the bathroom to make himself a bit more comfortable, but was halted just outside the door by a soft call from behind him.

"Atreus."

The object of his discomfort was twisting her fingers in front of her, her eyes uncertain. She took a hesitant step closer to him. "I wasn't sure if you wanted to see or talk to me—you didn't seem happy to see me last week at Flourish and Blotts, and you were angry when you left the table at lunch."

Severus crossed his arms and gave her a cold look, his erection thankfully going down in the face of this confrontation. "Your friend started our acquaintance by sticking his wand in my face after _you_ told me he wasn't like his bullying father. You couldn't even be arsed to say hello to me. Then you didn't back me up when he was throwing accusations around. You were pissy all lunch and kept acting jealous of the blonde bint, and hardly looked at me. Now my new housemates tell me your taste runs to famous people. Do you expect me to be pleased?"

Hermione's mouth fell open. "I'm sorry it slipped my mind to say hello off the bat, but my boyfriend and my best friend were threatening each other at wand-point after they had promised to try to be nice, and I didn't take Harry's side, either! At lunch Lavender kept baiting me, you saw it, and Ron did _nothing_ to defend me. I was _angry."_

"That doesn't explain how jealous you were acting. Which is especially strange, since he's apparently not _famous._ Why are you with me, anyway? Were you just bored or something?"

Hermione's fists clenched at her side, and her voice raised shrilly. "Who even _said_ that? It's not like that with me, and it never has been! Why would you even listen to them? You've spent, what, an hour in their company total?"

Severus crossed his arms mutinously. "I was sitting with Anthony, Padma and Cho. Two prefects and the Quidditch captain! They said you like famous people 'like Victor Krum and Harry Potter.' They're my _housemates,_ and they've bloody well been nicer to me than your friends. Which really, doesn't surprise me much! Gryffindors!" he spat. "You're all no different now than the last group was then! Who's this Victor Krum fellow anyway, and why is bloody Potter so bloody interesting?"

"Oh, that's rich. I've never dated Harry, not even once. Which is more than _either_ Padma or Cho can say! I can't believe you're trusting their word over mine! I am not interested in Harry, and I won't ever be. You're the one who's acting jealous!"

_"That's what Lily said!"_ He shouted it, and Hermione actually stepped back a little from the force of it. Severus took a deep, angry breath and continued bitterly. "Lily said she would never be interested in Potter, but she was." His voice deflated, and to his horror, Severus felt tears prick his eyes. "The professor said." He whispered, more to himself than to Hermione. "Lily _did_ want him. She loved him. She _married_ him, and never spoke to me again!"

"I'm not her." Hermione stepped forward again and held a hand out beseechingly. "Severus. _I'm not her._ I like you. You saw it yourself inside my head. You."

"Who's Victor Krum, Hermione? You're not denying you liked him."

"I… I… no. I did. I did like him. Not at first. I thought he was just a meathead athlete, but he was actually very sweet, and he was interested in _me,_ and no boy had been before and it was just… nice. We're not together now, though. We haven't been for a year."

"You still haven't said who he is, Hermione. Why would Cho call him famous?"

Hermione winced. "Well… he's a Quidditch player. He plays for the Bulgarian team."

Severus stared in disbelief. "You've dated a National Quidditch team player."

The girl in front of him half-shrugged, and said in a small voice, "Not _because_ of that, and anyway I like _you_ now."

Severus ran a hand through his hair, and shook his head. "Look, I like you, too. You're pretty, and you're smart, and I really like kissing you. But… but I just don't see how this is possibly going to work with you hanging out with Potter all the time. I just… I can't do that."

Now tears glittered in Hermione's eyes and spilled down her cheeks. "You're asking me to choose between you and my best friend? Severus, he and Ron were the only two friends I had when I first came here. They were the only two willing to be my friends. I can't choose between you two. Please don't ask me to!"

Severus shook his head again. "Then I guess… I guess this just isn't going to work out. I like you, Hermione, but I can't go through that again, losing you slowly over time to stupid Gryffindors."

_"I'm_ one of those stupid Gryffindors!"

"No. No you aren't. Not really. Look, let me know if you change your mind. I'm… I'm going to get some pudding or something." Severus forced himself to walk away before he could betray himself and stay despite everything. It was better to cut the ties now, before they broke him. He prided himself on learning from his mistakes, after all.

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><p><em>AN: Well, our pair seems to be off to a very rocky start. Miscommunications all around. :-(_

_Thank you again so much for reading! I really do appreciate the lovely reviews I have received from you guys. :-) I really can't tell you how much it means to me that you are still reading and following me after all this time!_


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary:** A time travel story. When fifth-year Severus Snape tries to create a forward time-travelling philter to prove his worthiness to Lord Voldemort, he is disappointed to find that his creation is worthless. Or is it?

**Disclaimer:** All recognizable characters and fictional places do not belong to me; I am merely borrowing them for playtime before (respectfully) putting them back. Thank you, JKR, for allowing such things to happen.

**Pairings/Main Characters** Hermione Granger and Severus Snape, the other Severus Snape. A cast of other canon characters and couple of OFCs as well.

**Warnings:** This story is rated NC-17/MA, and it is not suitable for children under age 18. It is Alternate Universe, and includes strong language, lemons (graphic sex), violence and mention of violence/torture, unresolved sexual tension, and major character death.

**Thank You:** To the village that has raised this baby over the course of several chapters: Roo, Tom Without, Allee, Lauren, Nathaniel Cardeau and ThornedHuntress. Additional thanks to my current amazing "Team Tyche," who have listened to me bounce ideas and have cleaned up my writing, making this story so, so much more than it would have been otherwise: Dragoon811, BSC_AG, AdelaideArcher and Stgulik.

A thousand further thank yous to the extremely talented SusanMarieR, who created the official banner and cover art for this piece.

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><p><strong>SEVERUS, REDUX<strong>_**  
><strong>_**By: TycheSong**

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><p><strong>Chapter Eighteen:<strong> _(In which Hermione as an awful day, followed by a frustrating Defence lesson.)_

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, 03 September, 1996, 10:00 AM_

Hermione spent her first night as a sixth year crying into her pillow. The upper-level students were allowed to use silencing and temperature charms or wards on their beds, and Hermione gratefully did so. The very _last_ thing Hermione wanted to deal with was Parvati or Lavender asking her what was wrong and attempting to comfort her. Neither of her female year-mates might like her that much, and they could often be downright catty, but they would not ignore her if they realised she was weeping.

Hermione honestly couldn't handle that at all right now, especially from Lavender. The day had just been _so awful._ Boarding the Hogwarts Express with the Weasleys had, suddenly and painfully, driven home that her parents were not there to see her off, and never _ever_ would be again. She had felt unbearably lonely and abandoned—which was entirely irrational since she had been the one who sent them away. Regardless, the feeling was there and it had taken all of her willpower to keep from blubbing like a first year on the train as it pulled away.

The train ride had only got worse. She had been looking forward to finding Severus and sorting out the disaster that had been the Diagon Alley excursion. During their lunch that day, she had been so focused on how upset she was with Ron and trying not to strangle Lavender for all her little digs, that she had behaved rather badly towards him. Severus had looked much worse than when she'd seen him last, as well, and to her chagrin she had not been certain of the best way to ask him about it without embarrassing him. She had been rather counting on using the train ride to make up and ask him privately.

Unfortunately, several searches of the train had revealed that Severus wasn't aboard at all, so she hadn't been able to make things right, and had spent a good portion of the eleven-hour train ride worrying about him.

After a brief prefect meeting with Professors Vector and Saxina, Hermione had then been forced to listen as Harry and Ron had emphatically accused Draco Malfoy of being a Death Eater, of all things. Their proof had been that Malfoy had shopped in Knockturn Alley and behaved suspiciously. Of course, they knew of Malfoy's activities because they had _followed him about whilst under an Invisibility cloak._ The irony of that didn't even seem to register with the idiots.

Around lunchtime, Harry and Neville had left, apparently as they were invited to some sort of gathering with the new Potions professor, Horace Slughorn. Lavender had then invited herself in, cosied up to Ron, and Hermione was left with only Luna as for company for almost the rest of the train ride as Ron and Lavender cooed and snogged. It had been both awkward and revolting.

She had never quite been so relieved to get to Hogwarts in any of the previous five years. Yet somehow, her evening had _still_ managed to get worse. Harry had been late to the feast after leaving to spy on Malfoy again, causing her no small amount of worry, and then had made that awful comment about hoping Professor Snape would die.

Severus' sorting had seemed to go smoothly, for the most part, though he didn't look too pleased in general. Her relief at seeing him looking markedly healthier, and the hope that she would be able to work things out with him, had leeched away through supper. He had refused to so much as meet her eyes. She had been forced to follow him when he rose to go to the loo. Not that _anything_ good had come from that.

Why couldn't Severus understand her loyalty to her friends? Especially after the last year: Harry had been so angry and alone; he had been left in the dark, patronised or ignored by all of his adult mentors and had been made a laughing stock by the rest of the Wizarding world. Hermione knew it had worked at his deep-seated insecurities. She had seen the havoc and consequences the year had wreaked. Severus had expected her to look into the haunted, grieving eyes of her best friend in Diagon Alley and pretend not to believe him,— after the lies and similar disbelief of the previous year had nearly driven him mad.

Then Lavender had kept making little digs, trying to assert her claim on Ronald-Bloody-Weasley, and really Hermione couldn't be arsed except that it was so _humiliating._ When she had tried to demonstrate to Lavender that she really wasn't a threat, Severus had been stiff and stand-offish, and Ronald hadn't even tried to call Lavender off.

Then Severus had just delivered his ultimatum: Harry or him. And when Hermione couldn't bring herself to abandon her oldest friend, Severus had just dumped her. Flat. In the middle of dinner. It really was a most horrid ending on top of a truly awful day. Crying into her pillow for several hours hadn't given her any feelings of relief, either, just a rather horrid headache and a bad case of hiccoughs.

Today wasn't looking any better at all. Her eyes were still a bit puffy and red from the previous night; it was clear she'd had herself a good cry. She stole a glance across the classroom at Severus, who appeared to be absolutely indifferent to her. He was sitting with Padma Patil, who was by far more level-headed and intelligent than her sister Parvati, but equally as pretty. Far prettier than Hermione, with her long, glossy dark hair that never frizzed no matter how awful the humidity got.

Hermione closed her eyes briefly and attempted to calm her breathing and clear her mind. Going into her Tuesday morning Defence class taught by Professor Snape with her emotions rioting would be nothing but a disaster. Honestly, she really should have tried to do this during that awful lunch in Diagon Alley, but she still found it horribly difficult to clear her thoughts once she was already riled up.

The Professor blew into the Defence classroom much as he did the Potions classroom, all billowing robes and arrogant dramatics. The murmuring students fell silent as he swivelled to face them and began the lesson.

"The Dark Arts are many, varied, ever-changing and eternal…"

The low, caressing cadence in his voice was _exactly_ the same pitch and tone Severus had used on the roof of Number Twelve. She could almost feel his warm breath on her throat, in her ear; and a shiver slid down her spine and went straight to her nipples. Her lips parted slightly, and she shot a glance at Severus. He still wouldn't look at her, and was watching the professor with interest.

"…You are fighting that which is unfixed, mutating, and indestructible."

Hermione had to keep herself from making any noise; she was actually _turned on_ by her professor's loving speech about the Dark Arts. She trusted him—how could she not when he had protected her friends and her so many times, helped her alter her parents' memories, and kept her secrets? Still, getting her knickers wet because of her professor's voice—especially whilst he was talking about _black magic_—was highly inappropriate.

_It's only because of Severus._ Hermione reassured herself. _It's_ Severus _I like, and they sound the same. It's not like I can help it if his voice makes me want to—NO._ Hermione caught her thoughts just as the professor's gaze settled on her. It was unlikely that he was peeking in her mind, but it would be especially stupid of her to mentally dwell about on her arousal and assume he'd ignore it. He asked a question and she shot her hand in the air to get her mind out of the danger zone, and hopefully remind the professor how boring and annoying her thoughts probably were to him.

It appeared to work, and the class was told to divide into pairs to practice non-verbal magic. She looked to Severus again, but he was already squaring off with Padma. Hermione felt her heart sink, and glanced around to see who might be available. Harry was already with Ron, predictably, and Seamus had paired up with Dean. Neville, with whom she usually ended up partnered with in these sort of class exercises, had even managed to find someone else—Hannah Abbott. In fact, her only choices left were Blaise Zabini and Anthony Goldstein.

She had just started moving towards the Ravenclaw prefect when Zabini loudly called for Goldstein's attention and wriggled his wand in clear invitation. Anthony Goldstein, who had not noticed her small movement, gamely raised his wand and furrowed his brows in concentration. A glance around confirmed that she had, indeed, been correct the first time: no one was left. The class had an uneven number of students.

"Five points, Miss Granger, for not following directions and finding a partner." The professor's silky voice came sneering over her shoulder, and Hermione winced. It wasn't something she could help, but of _course_ he would take points. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Severus' head twitch in her direction minutely.

"Sir," she began cautiously, "it appears that I shall have to wait my turn for another classmate to be free."

The professor's expression was reminiscent of finding something nasty on his shoe. "I'm afraid, Miss Granger, that we don't have time to wait for you join the rest of the class. You will just have to practice against me." His lips twisted unpleasantly. "Prepare to defend yourself. _Non verbally."_

"Blimey, I wouldn't want to be _her."_ The whisper came from behind her, and Hermione grimaced to herself as the professor snapped out a point loss against the offender. She didn't feel much like being her, either.

The professor's wand flicked, and pain zinged across her arm as the feeling of nettles brushing across it suddenly exploded. Hermione dropped her wand with a surprised whimper, and flushed as Malfoy's distinctive snicker could be heard behind her. It wasn't a deadly or even seriously debilitating hex, but stinging hexes _did_ hurt. Hermione flexed her fingers reflexively as it the sting faded, and then bent to retrieve her wand.

"Again." The professor's voice was quiet, bored.

Hermione had barely lifted her wand when the feeling of the invisible nettles came back, this time blossoming in her left shoulder. She resisted the urge to try to shake the feeling out and instead gripped her wand tighter, concentrating on a shielding spell.

"Again." Her knee. "Again." Her right shoulder this time. _"Again."_ The hex struck her in the abdomen this time, right in the still tender place where Dolohov's curse had ripped through her almost three months earlier. Hermione couldn't stop her cry of pain this time, and she doubled over.

_"Concentrate,_ Miss Granger!" The professor nearly shouted it, and Hermione desperately tried to focus, even as her vision blurred with tears. His wand flicked and Harry shouted, echoing a quieter voice; suddenly, a thick, layered shield was between her and the professor. The force of it actually made him take several staggering steps into a desk.

He angrily spun away from her, snarling, "Ten points from Gryffindor and Ravenclaw for interfering with another student's lesson, and another fifteen from Gryffindor for shouting. I did say _non-verbal_ spells, did I not, Potter?"

Hermione glanced up, almost pathetically grateful that Severus at least didn't seem to hate her enough that he had left her entirely to the mercy of the professor. Severus ignored her glance, and pursed his lips tightly before he curtly nodded and turned back to Padma.

Harry, on the other hand, ignored nothing, and glared petulantly. "Yes."

"Yes, _Sir."_ Professor Snape's voice was dangerously quiet.

"There's no need to call me 'sir,' Professor."

Hermione felt a gasp rip from her throat along with several others. Had Harry gone _mad?_

"Detention, Potter. Saturday night, my office. I not take cheek from anyone, Potter… not even 'the Chosen One.'"

He then turned and looked snarled at his teenaged self. with a snarled, "As for _you,_ Prince. You will pay attention to your _own_ classwork—as you all should." The professor's voice was icy as he addressed the class at large. "Are any of you foolish enough to think that if you are in a duel, your opponent will politely wait after each hex until you feel better before incapacitating you? If Miss Granger does not feel that she can learn to defend herself against the dark arts non-verbally, perhaps she should drop this class." His attention returned to Hermione. "Is that the case, Miss Granger?"

Hermione swallowed and stood, her face burning. "No, sir." She lifted her wand and focused on it. Magic was a matter of will, words were but a helpful way to keep oneself focused on it. Most adults could do at least some non-verbal magic. Some of the more powerful witches and wizards, she had heard, didn't even need the wand implement. All she had to do was _focus._

His wand twitched in her direction, and the hex landed on her wand arm again. Grimly she tightened her hold on her wand, and concentrated, not even hearing his "Again." This time, like the tumblers of a lock clicking into place, her mind suddenly latched onto how it worked. A non-verbal shield blossomed between them, and Hermione couldn't help but grin at it, and then at her instructor.

Professor Snape appeared to be indifferent, and this time gave no warning as his wand flicked in her direction. She raised her shield again, blocking his attack neatly, and he gave one short nod. "You will practice against Abbott, now." He informed her, and then turned on his boot heel to face Neville with his trademark sneer. "Longbottom, defend yourself!"

Neville, quite predictably, went pale and looked like he might be sick, but dutifully raised his wand into a defensive stance.

* * *

><p><em>Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, 03 September 1996, 12:06 PM<em>

Hermione left class feeling mentally exhausted. Non-verbal spells were a lot more difficult than she had expected. It was draining to continue casting non-verbally, over and over, even after she had understood how to do it.

An hour into their lesson the Professor told everyone to switch positions between attacking and defending, and find a new partner again.  
>Hermione ended up attacking whilst Harry defended, and by the end of the lesson she couldn't help but feel awful as Harry's countenance grew darker and darker as every jinx she threw his way landed.<br>By the time class had ended he still hadn't gotten it down, and Hermione had only failed twice after her initial success. Of course, every time her jinxes had landed, Draco and his friends had snickered, and Harry had only grown more frustrated.

He stomped from the room at the end of class, his right fist tight around his wand handle. Ron gave her a scathing look as he too, passed, and hissed at her, "Oi, you couldn't have eased up a _bit,_ Hermione?"

Hermione answered, "I have to practice, too, and Harry won't learn if no one forces him to try."

He just shook his head and left, leaving Hermione standing behind him. Clearly she wouldn't be welcome with them at lunch, next. Miserable, she walked slowly back to where she had stowed her bag as the other students filed out of the classroom.

Picking it up, she glanced at the professor, who was now at his own desk, writing something. "Thank you, sir," she said quietly. He didn't look up, but his writing paused briefly as she left the room.

She had only barely cleared the door frame when a voice came from beside her, from beside the door frame.  
>"You weren't easy on Potter."<p>

Hermione turned to face Severus, uncertain if she was able to summon the energy to continue their fight. "No," she replied. "He wouldn't learn anything that way, and I certainly wouldn't get any better at non-verbal spells. I wasn't doing anything that would hurt him."

"He was a disrespectful arse to the professor, just like his father."

Hermione sighed. "Yes. He was. I know you won't believe me, but honestly, he isn't usually that bad."

Severus proved her right by snorting in disbelief, and turned to leave.

"Atreus!" Hermione called after him. Like the professor in the classroom, he didn't look at her, but he did pause. Unable to stop herself, Hermione asked, "Why _did_ you shield me in there?"

Severus' shoulders hunched briefly, as if embarrassed that she had noticed. "I—I don't know," He he stammered. "I really just… I shouldn't have." He started walking away down the hallway.

"Thank you, anyway. Even if you shouldn't have." Hermione said, uncertain if he could hear her.

He froze again, and then furiously turned around and stomped back to her. "Why are you even talking to me, anyway? Aren't you supposed to hate me or something now?"

"Hate you?"

"You're in Gryffindor, and friends with Potter, on top of which, I broke up with you yesterday. So why aren't you trying to hex me in the hall?"

"Atreus…" Hermione sighed again in tired frustration. "That isn't something I really _do._ Even if you don't want to be with me anymore, I'd still like to try to be your friend. We have a lot in common, remember? Is it really necessary to write the whole summer off because we had a bad day?"

"Friends." He shook his head as if in disbelief, but his cheeks had heated slightly. "Why are you friends with Potter, anyway? He's an arse."

"Because… because before I came to Hogwarts, I didn't really have any friends. I was weird, bossy, nerdy, and plain-looking, and strange things kept happening around me. When I got to Hogwarts, I thought everything would change. I thought this place would be full of people like me, and I'd fit in and have lots of friends.

"Only I didn't. Nothing changed at all. No one liked me at Hogwarts, either." Hermione shrugged self-consciously. "I was just as weird and lonely and singled out here. Then… then there was this thing with a mountain troll, and afterwards, Harry and Ron were my friends. Not just so they could copy my homework, but really my friends, and Harry was—is—one of the most popular boys in the school. But he chose to be my friend. I'm not sure I'm explaining this terribly well, or if you can really even relate to what I'm talking about."

Hermione waved a frustrated hand, and started talking faster, rushing to get her words out before he decided to leave. "The thing is, they were the only two willing to be friends with me, and we have been through _hell_ together. Last year, Harry tried to tell the world that You-Know-Who was back, but no one believed him. They turned him into a laughingstock and the entire Wizarding world thought he was delusional and crazy, even after a boy had been _killed._ He was so angry all the time some people were wondering if he really was going mad.

"Then… then you wanted me, one of the few people he still trusts completely, to tell him I didn't believe him. You wanted me to call him a liar when I _knew_ he was telling the truth. Only I knew I couldn't actually tell him the truth, and Ron was being such a prat, and… haven't you ever got mad and said or behaved in a way you wish you hadn't? I'm _sorry."_ Hermione sucked in a deep breath, not certain what else she could say.

Severus didn't answer her. He merely looked at her, white-faced, his posture stiff. "I… I have to go. It's lunchtime."

Hermione felt herself deflate a little. "Yeah… yeah, okay. I'll see you around."

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><p><em>AN: Once again I find myself absolutely humbled and thankful for all of you-it continues to astound me how kind everyone has been and how many people have taken the time to comment (good or bad). You guys are really the best. Really. I do apologise that I have not manage to respond to some of you, yet-it has been very busy! I can't tell you enough how wonderful and uplifting it is to receive your reviews, however, and I promise that I will get back to you shortly! In the meantime, please accept a shiny new chapter as a peace offering. :-)_

_I would also like to take a moment to shower love and gratitude on Shinigamioni and Stgulik, who both stepped up on relatively short notice to take on the monumental task of alpha and betaing this chapter, as well as to BSC_AG, who has been with me on this adventure since before chapter one was started. I make a lot of mistakes, and I am extremely blessed to have people willing to red ink my work before people see it._


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary:** A time travel story. When fifth-year Severus Snape tries to create a forward time-travelling philter to prove his worthiness to Lord Voldemort, he is disappointed to find that his creation is worthless. Or is it?

**Disclaimer:** All recognizable characters and fictional places do not belong to me; I am merely borrowing them for playtime before (respectfully) putting them back. Thank you, JKR, for allowing such things to happen.

**Pairings/Main Characters** Hermione Granger and Severus Snape, the other Severus Snape. A cast of other canon characters and couple of OFCs as well.

**Warnings:** This story is rated NC-17/MA, and it is not suitable for children under age 18. It is Alternate Universe, and includes strong language, lemons (graphic sex), violence and mention of violence/torture, unresolved sexual tension, and major character death.

**Thank You:** To the village that has raised this baby over the course of several chapters: Roo, Tom Without, Allee, Lauren, Nathaniel Cardeau and ThornedHuntress. Additional thanks to my current amazing "Team Tyche," who have listened to me bounce ideas and have cleaned up my writing, making this story so, so much more than it would have been otherwise: Dragoon811, BSC_AG, AdelaideArcher and Stgulik.

A thousand further thank yous to the extremely talented SusanMarieR, who created the official banner and cover art for this piece.

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><p><strong>SEVERUS, REDUX<strong>_**  
><strong>_**By: TycheSong**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Nineteen:<strong> _(In which there is a reconciliation in the library, and Hermione attempts to research Damian Vector.)_

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, 03 September 1996, 12:44 PM_

_"Haven't you ever got mad and said or behaved in a way you wish you hadn't? I'm_ sorry._"_ Her words rolled around in his mind throughout lunch, haunting him. He ate mechanically, not really paying attention to what he was eating or the other students around him. Which was just as well, really, since most of them were not that interested in paying attention to him.

He was now, as he had always been, a bit too _everything._ He had expected a bit more acceptance from Ravenclaw, considering what their house stood for. It turned out they viewed scholarly dedication and intelligence the basic requirements of their house, but the social ladder still hinged, for the most part, on one's level of attractiveness and charisma.

Coming down the stairs from the dorms, he had overheard a girl in the common room this morning talking about how he was "just as greasy" as his uncle. The other girl had agreed that he wasn't very attractive, and that he gave her "the creeps."

Not that he cared. Because he didn't.

Severus cut the pork in front of him into precise cubes, taking a level of odd comfort in the uniform shape and slicing motion. It was like cutting potion components. He noticed Marietta staring at his motions with an odd expression on her face, as if she were wondering if he had become unhinged. He decided not to care and continued to cut even little cubes. It was something to focus on that wasn't Hermione's damning parting words.

Yes, he had been angry and blurted something he wished he hadn't. It had _destroyed_ his friendship with Lily, even though he had turned himself into a laughingstock to try to apologise. Somehow, the exact words had tumbled out of Hermione's mouth to make him wonder if he had made the right decision. It was almost like she knew.

A suspicious sort of person might suspect someone had told her. Severus shot a flinty look from the corner of his eyes to the head table. His elder version was looking at the scarf–draped professor sitting to his right with distaste as she actually dropped a forkful of mushy peas into her wine goblet.

Severus scowled at his evenly diced pork. No, his elder self didn't even seem to like Hermione. The day he had called Lily a Mudblood was one of his most embarrassing regrets. His adult self would not have shared that with her. The truth was that perhaps he and Hermione were more alike than he would have preferred to admit. He, too, had believed that Hogwarts would give him a place to fit in, and he, too, had been disappointed on that front.

Strangely enough, even after their altercations, she still wanted to be _friends._ He supposed he could relate to that. Idly he wondered if she wanted it enough that she would be willing to sleep outside his dorm as he had with Lily, and then felt a bit guilty for wanting that. Surreptitiously, he glanced at her, a table over. She was sitting hunched over her plate next to the redheaded girl, chewing her own food and…reading. He tried not to smile as he realized she had a book flat on the table where her plate should be, and that her actual lunch had been shoved to the vicinity of where one's glass customarily went.

Potter and Weasley appeared to be pointedly ignoring her. Severus sent a small jinx towards Potter, more to see if he could get away with it than anything else. It was the equivalent of flicking his ear, and the other boy rubbed it with a small grimace, then glared at _Hermione._ Oops. He hadn't meant to shift the blame to her.

As if she could hear him thinking about her, she looked up suddenly, and their eyes locked. Severus bore the connection for a moment, then uneasily, he gathered his things to go, leaving what was left of his dinner behind. He had a free period next; some quiet time in the library was exactly what was needed to sort his thoughts.

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><p><em>Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, 03 September 1996, 1:06 PM<em>

Breezy chatter that only barely met the volume expectation of the library suddenly assailed Severus, and he glanced up from his Arithmancy textbook in annoyance. His glance was met with books _thunking_ down across from him. In short order the chatty Weasley girl and her blonde friend—from his own house he saw—were seated at his table.  
>He cleared his throat and the blonde fastened her gaze on him expectantly. She was both familiar and not. He had the distinct and uncomfortable feeling that they'd met before, but he couldn't remember where. She smiled at him and opened a potions book, flipping several pages in.<p>

"What do you want?" Severus asked, an edge in his voice. He noticed that his shoulders were hunched defensively, and straightened them.

The redhead—Ginny, that was her name—looked at him in surprise. "What do you mean? You're going out with one of our best friends, and Luna's in your house and my year. We always sit at Hermione's table, and you said you were good at potions. I need help with the— "

"This isn't Hermione's table. It's _my_ table." Severus cut off her prattling response.

"Well it's not her _usual_ table, but why wouldn't she sit with you?"

"Because we're _not_ going out." Severus replied shortly.

The blonde continued to read placidly, mouthing the Latin incantations to herself as she came across them.

"Wait. You…you're not?" Ginny seemed dumbfounded. "Hermione said you were only _yesterday._ Ugh, it's _so_ hard to keep up with these things, here." Ginny started piling up her books quickly and stuffing them in her bag. "C'mon Luna. Look, no offence, Prince, but we can't be seen at your table now." Ginny gave him an apologetic grimace. "Hermione's already in trouble with Harry and my brother, and she's not exactly close with the girls in her year. _We're_ her best friends, and we kind of have to be on her side, even if we don't know what happened." She shrugged. "Luna?"

The blonde glanced up at her friend, and then over at Severus. "I think I will stay," she said softly. "Class starts in a few minutes, anyway."

Ginny nodded, and quickly walked over to the next table, unpacking her things again with quick efficiency. In moments she was lounging in a chair at the other table as if she had always been there.

Luna returned to her Charms book, apparently unconcerned with the world around her and what social cues might or might not pertain to her. That was…refreshing, honestly. It was a bit unfortunate she had Charms in just a bit. Severus had a free period next, followed by Potions, and her presence at the table was oddly peaceful instead of disturbing.

Shaking his head, Severus pulled out his sixth-year Potions book, checked the inside to see if it had changed in the last twenty years and frowned at it in disappointment. He had been looking forward to learning Potions from himself, but it seemed that fate had decreed that his Potions education was firmly in the hands of Slughorn. Severus sighed, and started to read ahead, going over the potions and jotting notes about various components he had not previously worked with, intending to look them up and their properties individually.

Severus had been finding subtle ways to improve on most of the potions in the textbooks for the last couple of years. It would have been nice to have been challenged. Professor Slughorn taught students to follow potion recipes without actually explaining what they did and how they reacted—it was the primary reason he had been looking forward to learning from himself instead.

If a students didn't learn the _theory_ how could they possibly understand whether they were making a mistake, or how to improve on it? That wasn't learning Potions—that was learning how to follow directions. Admittedly, that was a lesson more people could use, but it shouldn't be at the expense of learning the subtle nuances of Potions.

Absently, Severus licked a finger and turned the page, barely noticing when Luna packed her things and left. The noise level elevated in the background as students came and went between classes, and then settled again.

Or almost. There was a group to his left being rather rowdy for a library; they were clearly there to socialise and flirt amongst themselves instead of actually use the library. Severus glanced up at them in annoyance just in time to see Madam Pince descend on them, her lips pinched with upset.

"I am fairly certain that this is _not_ your common room. I do hope you five have a note from a Professor giving you permission to be here instead of whichever class you are currently assigned to?"

"We've a note from Professor Babbling," one of the girls explained, presenting a piece of parchment. "We are 'comparing and contrasting the fundamental differences between Chinese and Egyptian glyphs.'" Her expression was imperious, and one of the larger boys snorted with laughter.

Madam Pince gave the note she now held a look of extreme distrust, to the table's amusement, and snapped, "Do remember that this is a library, and if you don't keep the noise level to a minimum I will be sure to inform Professor Babbling that you will not be allowed back during her class time."

To the woman's disapproval, the bigger boy snorted in laughter again, ribbing the current generation's Malfoy with an elbow. The blond gave his friend a disdainful look, and obediently mouthed platitudes at the librarian. Madam Pince stalked off, and he table dissolved into soft laughter in her wake.

Severus suddenly found himself making eye contact with Malfoy, and the other boy gave him a small smile. This was the son of his mentor and Narcissa Black; the boy who was the heir to one of the most powerful families in Britain. Just because his father was a follower of Lord Voldemort didn't mean that either of them were _bad,_ Severus reasoned. After all, _Severus_ had been trying to do the same. Lord Voldemort had killed Lily, not the Malfoys. Severus smirked back at the boy in silent agreement that they could be friends.

Malfoy darted his gaze to Severus' other side, where one table over, Hermione Granger had at some point planted herself without his noticing, still deeply engrossed in the book she had been reading at lunchtime. She wasn't doing anything especially strange, in his opinion.

Severus met Malfoy's eyes again and shrugged minutely. The boy responded by waggling his brows at Severus and standing, meandering over to the section of shelves between Severus and Hermione. The girl with the note—Parkinson, he remembered from Defence class—stood as well, and followed him.

The two pretended to study the shelves for a short while before the girl suddenly said loudly, "Why Granger, the Gold Book? How…utterly quaint! Are you reading that to try to understand your betters, or are you stupid enough to try to find your own family in there?"

The Gold Book, more appropriately titled _Liber Sanguinis Britanniae,_ was the authoritative genealogical record of the magical families in Britain. Centuries old and magically updated as births and deaths occurred, the book was traditionally bound in dazzling gold leaf—giving rise to being called the Gold Book. The older the wizarding family, the further back in the book it and its decedents were listed.

Malfoy laughed with Parkinson and added, "Maybe she's hoping she's adopted. Or maybe she's looking for an old family to try to marry into. She wouldn't be the first Mudblood to harbour delusions that maybe one of us would want to claim her." The false pity in his voice was palpable.

Severus felt his heart stop at that epithet—Mudblood. Without realizing it, he found himself standing, moving over to where the altercation was occurring. He wasn't entirely positive what he was going to do yet, but merely sitting and listening was no longer an option.

Unmindful of his approach, Parkinson grabbed the book off the table, away from Hermione. "Really, you shouldn't be touching this. It doesn't concern you at all. You should just stick to the boring introduction books to Wizarding culture for Mudbloods like you. You know," she said thoughtfully, "like _Hogwarts, a History."_

The whole group snickered, and Hermione's chin jutted out stubbornly, and she held out her hand toward the Gold Book.

"Give it back, Parkinson."

"Or what?" The girl asked, her tone bored.

"Maybe she'll take points—oh wait, she can't from a fellow Prefect." Malfoy answered. "Or, I know, she'll write a letter to her _mummy."_

"Oh, do shut it, Malfoy. We all know you're the one most likely to pen a note to mummy when things don't go your way," Hermione shot back crossly.

"And my family would actually be able to do something about it," Malfoy answered, apparently undisturbed. "It's because _our_ name _is_ in the Gold Book. Show her, Parkinson. About…two-thirds of the way back, I believe. Page 952."

The girl obediently started flipping through the book, and Hermione muttered, "You have the page number _memorised?"_

"All wizards and witches of good breeding do, Granger." The girl responded coolly. "It is, after all, the authority on who is worth knowing and who isn't. _My_ family starts on page 712. A girl like you wouldn't know that, though, would you? It's rather like expecting a foundling to understand that eating with your fingers is uncouth." Parkinson gave Hermione an ugly smile. "Like that Weasley boy you've been panting after—don't worry, Granger. He may eventually be willing to overlook the mud."

Malfoy actually brayed in laughter at that, and Severus found himself interjecting, "Don't call her that."

All three turned to look at him, the Slytherins surprised, and Hermione expressionless. Severus found himself reiterating, "Don't ever, ever use that word in my hearing again. _Ever."_

Malfoy gave him a hooded look and said softly, "I would have expected that as a Prince, even an illegitimate one, you would understand that there is a certain order of classes, and what is worth defending and what…" he pause to sneer at Hermione, "isn't. Especially since your uncle is so esteemed in House Slytherin and by my family."

Severus straightened and looked the other boy directly in the eyes, for the first time refusing to be cowed by the name. "And I would also expect that a scion of a family so esteemed as the _Malfoys_ would understand that using such language in public and the presence of ladies is uncouth." Severus shot back. "It's rather like inviting a respected businessman to dine, only to find out he thinks nothing of picking his nose and stuffing his pockets with bread rolls for later."

Malfoy's face became ugly, and he lashed out suddenly with an arm, sending Hermione's book bag and most of its contents sprawling all over the floor. "Oh, dear me, _Miss Granger._ It seems you've dropped your things again. Perhaps _Prince_ here will pick them up for you. Don't forget to tip him afterwards, it's only polite."

Parkinson laughed derisively again. She dropped the Gold Book with a heavy thud to the floor with the rest of Hermione's things, and the two went back to their table.

Hermione gave an annoyed sigh and dropped to the floor, starting to gather her things. "It took almost an _hour_ to get all of this organised this morning," she grumbled under her breath, then swore softly as she discovered that one of her ink bottles had chipped in the fall, springing a small leak.

Hesitantly, Severus dropped to the ground next to her, and started to help her as she swished her wand at the bottle to repair it. They worked in silence together for a moment before Hermione said quietly, "Thank you for saying that."

He nodded, uncertain how to proceed and settled for smoothing out the slightly crumpled pages of the Gold Book.

"I...I don't like Ron like that. Like he was saying. I know you probably don't believe me after Diagon Alley, but I really don't." She looked at him nervously and added, "Just so you know."

He nodded again, still not sure what to say.

Hermione picked up a few more of her pages, and then whispered, "Why did you defend me again? I thought you were going to stop after this morning. That's why Malfoy did it, you know. He was testing you."

"I don't like bullies," Severus answered simply, "and I have."

Hermione's confusion was plain. "You have what?"

"I have said or done something before when I was angry that I regretted after."

Her expression cleared, and she said cautiously, "So, you think we can be friends then?"

He paused a moment, and then nodded. "I...yes. Friends. I'm not hanging out with Potter, though." He gave her a sharp look.

She nodded back. "That's fair enough, I suppose."

He picked up the Gold Book and handed it to her. "What _were_ you looking up in this?"

She shrugged and shyly, "Well, if _I_ were the sort to be curious about the new student claiming to be a member of the Prince family, this is the first place I'd look to verify. I was planning to take it to Professor Dumbledore this morning for safekeeping, but then I got a bit sidetracked."

Severus blinked in surprise. "You were protecting _me?"_

"There's no need to sound so surprised," Hermione said grumpily. "I'm just being thorough. Besides, like I said, I got a bit sidetracked." She leaned in closer to him and he followed suit, both forgetting that they were still on the floor.

She was close enough that he could smell her shampoo, the slight scent of cinnamon and oranges reminding him of their date on the roof of Number Twelve. She had tasted of oranges, then. He was so distracted by it, he nearly missed the importance of her next words.

"I thought since I had this, it would be a good opportunity to look up the Vector family."

Once her words sank in, Severus felt his eyes widen. "And…?"

"And there _is_ no Damian Vector. At least not in almost two hundred years. The last Damian Vector recorded in the Gold Book was born in 1814 and died in 1824—only ten years later."

"So _our_ Damian Vector is lying."

"It seems so. Except, he _is_ a time traveller and an Unspeakable. We saw it ourselves."

"Well sure, but if he was born in 1814 he'd be…182! At _least._ More if he's been using that Time-Turner a lot. That's old even by Wizarding standards—that's older than Professor Dumbledore."

Hermione nodded. "It's common knowledge that the Philosopher's Stone exists, and you've already proven it's possible to move _forward_ in time, so maybe he can, too. It's not really _impossible_ that it's the same person. Who knows what Unspeakables can do? Here's the other thing that's weird." She flipped through the book until she found the entry again and showed it to him. "Damian Vector, born 1814, died 1824, slain by 'Egyptian magicks moste foul at the _British Museum.'"_

"So..?" Severus gave her a confused look. "Why is that important?"

Hermione squeezed her eyes shut and grimaced. "Oh, I forgot to tell you. The other week, at Diagon Alley, I ran into Professor Vector at the apothecary. She knows our Damian Vector, too. She says he's a 'cousin of sorts,' and she assumed I'd met him _in the British Museum."_

Severus took a deep breath through his nose. "Well…it's a weird coincidence, but that doesn't really _prove_ anything except that whoever he is, Professor Vector knows about it and is telling the same story he is."

"He has to know how easy it is to look up his name in this book. So either he's being deliberately insulting by saying his name is Damian Vector, deliberately confusing or he _really really_ is and he finds it funny."

The two of them were silent for a moment, thinking about it. Their quiet moment was suddenly interrupted by a loud, obnoxious shout.

"KISSY KISSY UNDER THE TABLE LITTLE PRINCY AND HIS MISSY!" The screech was punctuated by several loud raspberry noises.

Severus and Hermione jerked apart so quickly, he nearly _did_ hit his head on the table. The two of them had completely forgotten they were still sitting on the floor, hunched intimately over the book.

"PEEVES," Hermione shouted, _"Get out!"_

"Alright that's enough. All of you get out!" Madam Pince swept an arm at the tables. "This is a _library,_ not a place to giggle and canoodle."

"We weren't—" Hermione started, only to be cut off.

"I don't care. Out, all of you. Shoo!"

"Meet me in my old room," Severus said. "I have an idea."

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><p><em>AN: Surprise I finished a chapter (at last), and Happy Valentines Day to all of you! My deepest gratitude to Stuglik for beta reading this not once, but twice! My thanks also to all of you, still faithfully reading after all this time. It means so much to me that you haven't given up! As always seems to be the case, I am woefully behind in responding to my wonderful reviewers. I am very very sorry, and will do my very best to catch up soon. I hope you all realize just how much I truly adore and appreciate them. Thank you, thank you, thank you._

_I have good news: this chapter marks the half-way mark! I'm anticipating this story to end up with a total of 39 chapters, so we are officially half-way there!_


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary:** A time travel story. When fifth-year Severus Snape tries to create a forward time-travelling philter to prove his worthiness to Lord Voldemort, he is disappointed to find that his creation is worthless. Or is it?

**Disclaimer:** All recognizable characters and fictional places do not belong to me; I am merely borrowing them for playtime before (respectfully) putting them back. Thank you, JKR, for allowing such things to happen.

**Pairings/Main Characters** Hermione Granger and Severus Snape, the other Severus Snape. A cast of other canon characters and couple of OFCs as well.

**Warnings:** This story is rated NC-17/MA, and it is not suitable for children under age 18. It is Alternate Universe, and includes strong language, lemons (graphic sex), violence and mention of violence/torture, unresolved sexual tension, and major character death.

**Thank You:** To the village that has raised this baby over the course of several chapters: Roo, Tom Without, Allee, Lauren, Nathaniel Cardeau and ThornedHuntress. Additional thanks to my current amazing "Team Tyche," who have listened to me bounce ideas and have cleaned up my writing, making this story so, so much more than it would have been otherwise: Dragoon811, BSC_AG, AdelaideArcher and Stgulik.

A thousand further thank yous to the extremely talented SusanMarieR, who created the official banner and cover art for this piece.

* * *

><p><strong>SEVERUS, REDUX<strong>_**  
><strong>_**By: TycheSong**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Twenty: <strong>_(In which Severus and Hermione make plans for future planning)_

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, 03 September 1996, 1:30 PM_

Severus made his way back towards the room that had housed him briefly at the end of the previous year, wondering if the wards would still recognise his magical signature. It would certainly be convenient to have the equivalent of his own private suite of rooms within Hogwarts, away from everyone else. The castle was not small by any standard, but it could certainly feel that way when one was sharing it with close to a thousand other people in the middle of a Scottish January.

At this time of day the staff wing was deserted, the teachers all most likely in class or their various offices. Technically, the whole wing off the third floor corridor was restricted except in cases of emergency; Severus could actually get himself in a good deal of trouble if he was caught intruding upon the personal space of the professors. The risk was worth it, however, if it meant that he had a warded set of rooms to himself.

To his delight, the door opened easily under his fingers, admitting him into "his" sitting room. Severus halted just inside the door, frowning. The room was…different. Briefly, he wondered if he had been admitted into the wrong suite. The modern look of the sitting room had vanished, plastered walls and ornate ceiling fan included, leaving behind only the stone walls prevalent throughout most of the castle. The furnishings remained the same, but the small bookcase now only held one book instead of nine.

Closer inspection revealed that it was _Her Dark Wizard's Secret._ That was…odd. It made him feel uneasy, not knowing who had changed the rooms and why that person would have removed all the books save for the lurid romance. Perhaps someone was trying to send him a message of some kind? Or perhaps it was the castle itself.

Restlessly, he fidgeted, waiting for Hermione to appear. She shouldn't have been too far behind him, even though she had more things to pack up and had wanted to check books out first. His impatient thoughts were interrupted by a hesitant knock on the door. Swiftly, Severus opened it before she got caught in the hallway and ushered her in.

Hermione frowned at the space around her, and commented, "The room has changed."

Severus nodded. "Yes, I noticed, too. I haven't been able to figure out why. I think it might have been the castle itself?" He looked to see what she thought of this opinion.

She nodded slowly. "It wouldn't be the first time that rooms have changed or moved around at Hogwarts." She, too, inspected the bookcase, and smirked at him. "The castle apparently left you your book."

"Only _Divine Comedy_ was mine, and you know it," he protested. "I packed that one up with my things when I left this room."

"Oh _really,_ if all the other books that weren't yours have been cleared out, then why was _Her Dark Wizard's Secret_ left behind?"

Severus gave her a grumpy look. "I don't know."

Hermione stepped daringly close and whispered teasingly, "So you didn't get overly…attached to that one? Not even to page 215?"

The blatant reference to the graphically described oral sex, delivered in her husky alto, made him fight not to squirm. "No," he lied. "I have no idea what you're talking about." He raised his brows at her. "Do you talk to all of your _friends_ this way?" he said teasingly.

Hermione's expression immediately went flat and she stepped back a little. "You're right. I shouldn't be trying to flirt when you've made it clear you're not interested in that—in me—anymore." She shrugged a little self-consciously, and then added quietly, "I'm sorry." She glanced around them at the room again, clearly embarrassed. "You said you had an idea."

He hadn't meant to upset her, only to tease and flirt back just a little. He wasn't trying to resume their previous relationship—at least not right away. The bubble they had lived in at Number Twelve was a very different world from Hogwarts during the school year. The teeming, hormonal social structure of boarding school introduced any number of variables that could upset their fragile relationship. But friends could still tease each other and mildly flirt, couldn't they?

He had evidently not come across as teasing, however, and once more Severus found himself wishing he were a little more socially adept. He really wasn't sure how to reassure her at this point without making an arse out of himself or giving the wrong impression, so instead, he just cleared his throat.

"Yes. I wasn't sure if I still had access to this room. Since I do, we might as well make the most of it. It's got all the space and privacy we need to do any research...or school stuff…" his voice trailed off at her eager expression.

"So you're saying you don't mind if I study here with you?" Hermione asked, pleased.

Severus felt something inside himself loosen a little. Hermione still wanted to be with him, be his friend. She wasn't going to uncomfortably excuse herself, or decide his awkward handling of her teasing was too embarrassing. She hadn't decided _he_ was too embarrassing. Feeling lighter, he told her seriously, "I liked being with you at Number Twelve, and you had good O.W.L. scores. You _did_ say that first night that you'd be willing to be my study partner." Shrugging a little, he added, "If we're going to look into Vector and researching time travel or...whatever...it's not a bad idea to have a secure place to keep the information. It's quite a bit closer to the teachers than I'm generally comfortable with, but at least we'd know it will keep anyone else out."

Hermione nodded and fiddled with one of her curls as she thought. "I think the obvious place to start if we're going to find out more about Damian Vector—or whoever he is—is the British Museum. Professor Vector assumed he and I met there, so he must be there on a regular basis."

"We won't be able to do that until Christmas, though. In the meantime, I'd like to do more in-depth research on some of the things we'll be covering this year. I've been reading ahead, and in Potions we've got a whole term dedicated to antidotes, but Slughorn doesn't really teach theory well, which is _imperative_ if you ever actually need to brew an antidote of some kind. In Defence we'll be focusing on non-verbal magic, _Patronuses_ and other high-level introspective light spells and basic healing spells.

"That's rather a lot to cover, and the library has _tonnes_ of supplementary reading. Not to mention, we'll need to do our own practice runs and experimenting here with any Potions and spells, and—what?" Severus broke off nervously, suddenly aware that Hermione was staring at him with a strange expression. _Fuck._ His cheeks heated slightly as he realised just _how_ enthusiastic and animated he had been getting about schoolwork. No doubt he was being too intense again.

There was silence for a short moment, and then a small smile grew across her face. "Nothing," she answered softly. "It's just that...well, I don't think I've ever had a friend before who _wanted_ to use their free time to study. Usually they're trying to drag me off to the Quidditch pitch or Hogsmeade." Her smile grew until she was positively beaming. "It's just nice, that's all. I'm _really_ looking forward to working with you this year." She blushed lightly, and started playing with one of her curls again.

Severus felt his heart skip a beat and he had to remind himself he wasn't interested in her. Not right now, at least. A part of him howled that there was a girl interested in him—_him,_ the oily, awkward boffin—and that wasn't an opportunity to put off, even if he wasn't certain how a relationship between them would work at Hogwarts. _She's intelligent, too...What if she changes her mind?_ His nasty inner voice questioned.

Severus brushed the thought aside, determined not to let his self-consciousness show. Uncertain how to best answer her, he smiled slightly instead, and turned back to his bookbag. He retrieved the Sixth Year Potions textbook he had been looking at in the Library, and flipped through until he got to the first class assignment on page ten. "We have Potions next. The first one in the book is _Draught of the Living Death._ I was hoping to research it a bit further before class. I've made a few notes..."

Hermione brightened, and said eagerly, "It's rather fascinating, but not the sort of potion you'd expect to be taught to sixteen-year-olds." Her voice took on a lecturing tone worthy of any professor. "It was initially called the 'Coward's Concoction' because Sir Maynard Mortimer invented it in order to bypass his duty to go to war. He gave himself the appearance of a deathly illness to get out of it, but Lady Mortimer was ashamed and turned on him, and he was executed."

Hermione happily babbled on, oblivious to the amused and slightly incredulous look Severus was giving her. "Apparently it slows everything down so that a person isn't even alive at first glance—the pulse is hardly felt, the skin chills—the sleeper might take a breath only once in the hour! You'll eventually die if not given the antidote. The name was changed when Healers discovered how useful it was in _their_ field. Sedation for complicated healings, or to slow down the effects of an accidental poisoning, et cetera."

Severus cleared his throat and said mildly, "I see you like to research, too. Do you also go through step by step to find out why things react with each other? Or experiment to see if you can make that reaction work better or faster?"

Hermione shrugged. "Well, I've got a fairly solid base knowledge of the more common components and potions, but I don't really experiment or stray from the textbook. Professor Snape rather discourages that sort of tampering, and if it's worked well for years…" she trailed off at his frown. "What?"

Severus hunched his shoulders and turned away, pacing a few steps and back again before answering. "I'm just surprised, that's all. I would have expected him...me...to encourage a better understanding, for students to challenge the expected a bit more."

Hermione smiled wryly. "Perhaps he might, if he had a bit less on his mind. Not all students are suited to Potions like you are, either. I am willing to bet that many of them only half follow what instructions there are, anyway. Just dump it all in and stir, you know? I think Professor Snape would prefer to not encourage experimentation on top of that."

Severus shook his head and gestured emphatically. "No, that's...No. Definitely not. Bloody idiots would kill themselves, and probably each other."

"Not all of them," she protested. "We're not all really that bad. Ron's older brothers actually experiment with potions quite a bit—they left school last year and just opened a joke shop over the summer in Diagon Alley." Her chin tilted and she said, a little snottily, "Mind, I can't say I approve of _everything_ they've come up with, but they have come up with some very brilliant ideas..." She smiled, her voice trailing off as she got lost in her reminiscing.

Severus felt a twinge of jealousy, and wondered which older brother with "brilliant ideas" she might be thinking of. He cleared his throat pointedly, and Hermione's attention snapped back to him, her cheeks blushing a deep red. "Sorry. Erm, they overheard me say as much about their Patented Daydream Charm, and gave me one for free." She sighed again wistfully, "It really _was_ brilliant." Hermione shook herself. "We should work out a schedule, and add it to my timetable."

Severus blinked, nonplussed. "Pardon?"

Hermione rummaged through her bag and pulled out a large piece of folded parchment that turned out to be a surprisingly detailed schedule of her month. Severus felt his mouth open slightly in astonishment as she continued to unfold it and it grew to a rather absurd size. Hermione had apparently planned out her entire life in ten minute intervals and colour coded them by class and activity. Between her classes, clubs, study times, school events, prefect duties and areas carefully marked off for her friends, it was very, very full. Hermione Granger was quite possibly busier than the Prime Minister, Severus thought, astounded. Even her _loo_ time was scheduled.

"We're in the staff quarters, so once we figure out the best times for us both to meet here, we should also figure out which teachers are about during that time so that we know who to be on the lookout for." Hermione mused. She sat down at the writing desk and pulled out another parchment, busily scribbling down names and crossing them off as she decided they wouldn't interfere. "The House Heads are all quartered near the dormitories, so we're probably safe from Professor McGonagall, Snape, Flitwick, and Sprout…"

Understanding, and warming to the idea, Severus added, "Madam Pomfrey's rooms are next to the Hospital Wing, too, so she won't be around here often, either."

"Hagrid's of course got his hut, and Firenze—he's a centaur, teaches Divination—he has a room on the first floor."

"That still leaves us possibly dodging Professors Vector, Sinistra, Slughorn…"

"Saxina, Trelawny-"

"Who?" Severus asked, frowning.

Hermione waved a hand. "Oh, I forgot, they'd be new to you. Professor Saxina teaches Magical Theory and Professor Trelawny is the other Divination teacher. There's also Professor Burbage—Muggle Studies—and Professor Babbling."

"Runes, right. Madam Pince, Madam Hooch," Severus sighed, "and _Filch."_

Hermione looked pained. "I'm a cat person, and even _I'm_ not fond of Mrs. Norris."

"I'm fairly certain she's really an Animagus who's stuck or something." Severus said grimly.

Hermione scoffed. "Oh, you don't actually believe that old rumour, do you?"

Severus shrugged and started ticking off reasons on his fingers. "She's really intelligent, and can seem to communicate, but doesn't have any Kneazle markings. She's really, really old for a cat—she was around when _I_ was a first year, twenty-five, no, six, years ago! She might not actually be a person stuck as a cat, Hermione, but she's _something."_

"A menace." Hermione responded, with aggrieved feeling, and Severus couldn't help but laugh.

"Either way, she's on the list. A rather long, list, actually, especially when you consider that one of the Heads might drop in for a surprise visit. I don't think Professor Snape would mind; he did the same after all, only in the dungeons." Severus said authoritatively, "He'd understand the need for a private place to study and experiment, he gets it, you know?"

"He'd probably let you off, but not me." Hermione's voice was rueful.

Severus nodded, conceding her point and started pacing again. "This seems to be a good time of the day in general, most of them have a class and the ones who don't are probably using their free period to mark."

Hermione nodded. "Crookshanks would probably help act as lookout, but this would be a whole lot easier if we had the Mar—" Hermione's mutter cut off with a horrified expression.

Alarmed, Severus asked, "What? Hermione what is it?"

"The _Marauder's Map._ It'll give you away! I have to go!" Hermione bolted to her feet, hurriedly grabbing her bag and dashing out the door without another word.

Severus stared after her, still trying to process what had just happened. _The Marauder's Map?_ What on earth was _that_? Severus shook his head, then noticed Hermione had left her elaborate schedule behind in her panic. Picking it up, he gave it another amused look before folding it back up again carefully and putting it in his own bag. He could return it during Potions class.

The warding locks on this suite, like the vast majority of the private staff rooms, were not based on a password that could be guessed or overheard but on the magical signature in the owner's touch. It was enough to make him wonder if perhaps _Professor Snape's_ quarters…_and the potions storeroom..._ Severus licked his lips in anticipation. It would be worth trying, at least. Perhaps there would be some useful information within.

Carefully, he opened the door, wary of anyone who might catch sight of him. The coast seemingly clear, so he crept out and started down the hall. It would not be a bad idea to put a couple of alarm wards a few paces off from the door, he mused. Perhaps something simple, just a ward line across the floor of the hall several feet on either side, alerting him if anyone crossed. It wouldn't be perfect, but it would be better than nothing.

Glancing about quickly to make sure no one was coming, Severus retreated further down the hall and set up the rudimentary wards—just a quick rune inked on the stone floor on either side of the hall, as close to the wall as he could manage. A few moments later and he had charmed it to ring a little chime inside the suite if anyone crossed it. He repeated the process about ten feet or so on the other side of the door, and then a third and final line at the entrance to the staff wing. Stepping back, he considered his work, trying to decide if his little ink marks were noticeable to the casual observer. Giving up, he shrugged a little. It would have to do for now.

Sighing a little in relief as he made it to neutral ground without being caught, Severus made his way down the stairs, reflexively bending his knees and catching the railing as it started to shift under him, re-directing his route. _Bloody staircase._ It was going to end up depositing him significantly off course. He checked his watch again and was alarmed to see that he only had about five minutes before class—the wards had taken longer than he had realised! Severus took the rest of the stairs as quickly as he dared whilst they were moving, and nearly leaped off when they came to rest. Severus sped up until he was practically running, nearly colliding with a Hufflepuff third year as he turned a corner.

He was out of breath by the time he made it to the Potions classroom, late rather than early. He slipped in just in time to see Slughorn give Potter and Weasley books and potion kits to use from the supply cupboard—apparently the two of them had come unprepared for class entirely. _Berks._

Sneering a little, Severus glanced about and saw Hermione sitting next to where Potter and Weasley had parked their things. Her mouth was set in a pinched, upset frown, and she kept darting worried looks at the two boys.

Rolling his eyes, Severus sat himself down on Hermione's other side with as much dignity as he could manage and dug into his bag, removing her schedule. He passed it to her and was gratified to see her clutch it to her chest and mouth "Thank you" to him. He smiled back, and whispered, "You didn't explain about the 'Marauder's Map.'"

Hermione bit her lip, her troubled expression returning, and whispered back, "Harry's got a map of Hogwarts that tells you where everyone is—it labels them, and you can't fool it into calling you something else. If he happens to take a look and notice that there are _two_ of you, or see what your proper name is…" Her voice trailed off.

Aghast, Severus stared at her. "You didn't think to mention it earlier?"

"I _forgot!_ And they're still upset with me from this morning; I doubt Harry will let me borrow it, and then he'd eventually want it back...I don't know what to do," Hermione finished miserably.

Severus narrowed his eyes as he recalled how uncanny Sirius Black and James Potter had been at ferreting him out when they were in school together. "We'll tell Professor Snape. I'm sure he would love to confiscate that. I'm certain he could put it to better use, too," he added viciously.

Hermione bit her lip again, and asked, "Could we maybe tell Professor Dumbledore, instead? It's just that Professor Snape is horribly biased against Gryffindors, he wouldn't be fair at all—"

"Whereas Professor Dumbledore is horribly biased _for_ them," Severus shot back, angry. "Don't try to deny it, you know it's true."

"He wouldn't use it to hand out detentions to everyone, though, Professor Snape _would."_

Severus arched his brows at her and pointedly turned away, unable to respond as the two boys returned to their seats, and Professor Slughorn started to babble airily about the potions bubbling away at the front of the room. They would revisit the subject later.

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><p><em>AN: Thank you so much for reading; please review! It is so wonderful that so many of you do-when I started this I had absolutely no idea I would get such an amazing response, and so much wonderful feedback! I have become both more confidant as a person and a much better writer in general because of you! You are wonderful, and I want you to know how much I appreciate you!_

_Special love to friends old and new: OneCelestialBeing, ThornedHuntress, Mellbell, AdelaideArcher, and Cybrokat. You know why precisely why. ;-)_


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary:** A time travel story. When fifth-year Severus Snape tries to create a forward time-travelling elixir to prove his worthiness to Lord Voldemort, he is disappointed to find that his creation is worthless. Or is it?

**Disclaimer:** All recognizable characters and fictional places do not belong to me; I am merely borrowing them for playtime before (respectfully) putting them back. Thank you, JKR, for allowing such things to happen.

**Pairings/Main Characters** Hermione Granger and Severus Snape, the other Severus Snape. A cast of other canon characters and couple of OFCs as well.

**Warnings:** This story is rated NC-17/MA, and it is not suitable for children under age 18. It is Alternate Universe, and includes strong language, lemons (graphic sex), violence and mention of violence/torture, unresolved sexual tension, and major character death.

**Thank You:** To the village that has raised this baby over the course of several chapters: Roo, Tom Without, Allee, Lauren, Nathaniel Cardeau and ThornedHuntress. Additional thanks to my current amazing "Team Tyche," who have listened to me bounce ideas and have cleaned up my writing, making this story so, so much more than it would have been otherwise: Dragoon811, BSC_AG, AdelaideArcher and Stgulik.

A thousand further thank yous to the extremely talented SusanMarieR, who created the official banner and cover art for this piece.

* * *

><p><strong>SEVERUS, REDUX<strong>_**  
><strong>_**By: TycheSong**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Twenty-One: <strong>_(In which Hermione attends Potions class and has a pointed conversation with Professor Dumbledore...)_

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, 03 September 1996, 3:15 PM_

Hermione left the Potions classroom feeling positively _wretched._ It had started off well enough; Professor Slughorn was an interesting teacher. He had started the class with four potions to identify, and Hermione had manage to bank twenty points for Gryffindor. In _Potions_ class. That had been a rather lovely novelty. She'd identified the first three out of the four: the _Veritaserum_ had given itself away with such a low albedo, despite boiling. The _Polyjuice_ was, of course, rather obvious on sight after her second year. Even Harry and Ron had to have recognised that one. The _Amortentia…_

Hermione sighed a little, remembering, and felt her cheeks heat in embarrassment. She had nearly blurted out in front of the entire class that her personal brand of attraction smelled like grass, parchment and _Atreus._

It had been more than just that simplified version of scents, of course. The _Amortentia_ had been reminiscent of a thousand summer evenings, the sweet warmth of July when the air heavy with freshly mown grass and the drugged languidness that came with a good book under a tree. It had smelt of new book bindings and clean parchment straight out of the packaging, the smell so full she could almost feel the texture under her fingers.

It had smelled of _him._ The subtle traces of tea tree oil and mint had blended in so seamlessly she hadn't realised what she had nearly given away until it was halfway out her mouth. Hermione had snapped her jaw shut and had carefully not looked at the boy sitting to her right. The scent had drifted from him to her, and from the potion in front of them, distracting her as she had attempted to pay attention to the class.

The fourth potion, _Felix Felicis,_ had been dangled as a prize for the best potion in class-a prize of more value in these times then she thought even Professor Slughorn realised. Here he was reminding them it couldn't be used in sporting events, when a potion like that could grant her financial security now that she no longer had the support of her parents. It could provide just the right steps, just the right spells at just the right time to be pivotal in another battle like the one in the Department of Mysteries. A potion like that could mean the difference between life and death for someone; it could change the outcome of the entire war!

Hermione had always been the best in every class, and now that she finally had a Potions instructor who wouldn't ignore her efforts, it was in the bag. Eagerly she had got to work. The Draught of the Living Death was _hard._ She had been doing well, splendidly even, until she got to the sopophorous bean. It slid out from under her knife multiple times, the hard curve resistant to her efforts.

A glance to her left showed Harry only squinting at his textbook with a confused expression on his face. On her right, Atreus had queued several beans up and seemed to be playing with various ways to destroy them instead of following instructions. He reminded her of Seamus in Charms class. He seemed to be trying everything from the standard instructions of simply slicing and squeezing the bean to what appeared to be a garlic press. Where had he even _found_ a garlic press? Atreus had considered the varying stages of sticky, gooey mess in front of him, and then to her horror, idly made notations about whatever his findings were _in the margins of his book._

Hermione shook her head, unable to believe it, and had returned her attention to her own potion, scraping as much of the juice into the cauldron as she could. It wasn't perfect-the shade of purple was clearly off. Frustrated, and wishing she had brought a hairband to contain her increasingly frizzy hair, Hermione had stirred as instructed, hardly noticing as Harry had borrowed her knife.

Then the lesson had been over, and the _Felix Felicis_ had been awarded to _two_ outstanding students...Atreus and Harry. Stunned, embarrassed and angry, Hermione had watched with barely contained upset as Professor Slughorn had measured out two small vials of the precious liquid, and _neither_ of them to her.

Atreus, she understood. Hadn't she already admitted that he was brilliant at Potions-far better than she, herself? Professor Slughorn had given him an arrested look and questioned exactly _how_ he was related to Snape. Atreus had compressed his lips and had reluctantly explained that he was Professor Snape's nephew, and that his father had died. Professor Slughorn had nodded, looking a bit disturbed, and had moved on to the other winner.

Harry Potter! Hermione's efforts had bloody well _carried_ Harry through half of his Potions classes! How in the _hell_ had he managed to make a better Draught of Living Death than she had? His pleased, smug expression as he had accepted Professor Slughorn's praise had curled her fingers into fists.

It was supposed to be _her_ moment, her day to prove that she _wasn't_ inadequate at potions, _her_ Felix Felicis. She might not have minded so much if Harry had actually deserved to win. He had explained, of course, once they were away from prying ears. He hadn't suddenly developed a keen Potions talent overnight, as he had led the Professor to believe.

Harry had _cheated._ Someone had written notes in his book, and he had used them to cheat. He had _trusted_ the random instructions of a mysterious book over the professor! Hermione's mood had gone from wretched to seething in a matter of moments. She had worked so hard for years to do something, anything to impress Professor Snape, and when they finally had a teacher who would give her a chance-after Harry had even told that teacher she was the best in their year-he had _cheated_ and had stolen the moment away from her.

Ginny had got wind of it, and had gratifyingly taken her side. She had her own reasons to mistrust mysterious books, after all. Hermione had been given the chance to try a couple spells on the book. It had not been enchanted in the least, which was a pity. She might have been able to make a case for him putting it aside if it had been.

Then she had seen a bit more of the inside, and had nearly fallen over in shock. She wondered if Harry would be more willing to ignore the textbook's instructions if he was aware of exactly who the author was.

She recognised that cramped, spiky writing all too well. She had spent nearly the entire summer in Atreus' company, and hadn't she just seen him making similar notations in his current textbook? It would be rather interesting to see how closely the old book and the current one matched at the end of the year.

It _really_ wasn't fair for Harry to have it, though. Even if one were to push aside Hermione's own acrimony at being showed up by a cheater, it was worse for Atreus. He put an incredible amount of thought, study and effort into improving potions. To have his work copied without his knowledge or permission, by Harry Potter, of all people, would quite possibly send him over the edge. It simply wasn't fair!

Hermione's little green monster rode her shoulder as she marched all the way up to the entrance of the Headmaster's office. Ostensibly she was going to ask the headmaster about taking charge of the Marauder's Map, but she knew she would be bringing up Harry's "new" textbook as well. If Harry Potter thought he could get away with breezing through his N.E.W.T. potions class after only getting in on a technicality, he had another think coming! Hermione wasn't usually the sort to tell tales, especially not on her friends, but he couldn't be allowed to just have a free pass like this! Not when they were covering important things he might actually _need_ to know!

Hermione stopped short by the gargoyle on the third floor, eyeing it for a moment. Perhaps she should just mention the map. The last time she had brought up a concern to Professor Dumbledore about one of Harry's possessions-his Firebolt-the boys had refused to speak to her for months. They were already upset with her because of Defence this morning. _Was_ she being unreasonable about Potions class?

Then she remembered the events of the day. Harry had been an absolute _arse_ to Professor Snape, only to have his detention conveniently circumvented by Professor Dumbledore's private lessons. He had blamed her for doing what she always did-her best-and then cheated in Potions class off Professor Snape's hard work from twenty years ago. Her hurt firmed her resolve.

"Acid Pops," Hermione told the gargoyle, pushing aside any guilt she felt about using the password she'd overheard from Harry to get him in trouble. It leapt out of the way, revealing the spiral staircase. A few moments later and she was knocking on the office door itself.

To her surprise, Professor Snape was already in the headmaster's office, his expression thunderous. He gave Hermione an annoyed glance, then said tightly, "This conversation is not concluded, not on any point. I cannot do what must be done if you continue to keep secrets and strip my authority."

Professor Dumbledore smiled genially at Professor Snape. "Of course not. Perhaps after supper, if you are available, we can discuss this further? Yes? Alright then, I'll see you then."

Professor Snape gave Hermione another annoyed look, then swept from the room, his countenance glowering and his robes snapping behind him. Professor Dumbledore's twinkling gaze settled on her, and Hermione felt a moment of self-consciousness. Clearly she'd interrupted something. No doubt her Defence professor would make certain she paid for it later. Hermione sighed and took a seat in front of the headmaster, idly accepting one of proffered lemon sweets.

"Miss Granger, what a felicitous surprise. Perhaps you are here to give me an update on young Atreus, and how he is settling in?"

_Felicitous._ It was almost as if the Headmaster already knew… Hermione shifted in her chair uncomfortably. He couldn't, could he? It had _just_ happened. The short silence reminded Hermione she had just been asked a question, and she grimaced a little. She had honestly kind of forgotten she was supposed to be "helping" Atreus settle in. Not that he seemed to need it, really. "No, sir. I think he is doing well enough-as near as I can tell, at any rate. We are in separate houses and it's only the second day of school. If you're asking how he gets along with Harry, the answer to that is not at all. I don't see that changing a whole lot, to be honest."

Professor Dumbledore made a few humming noises, then murmured, "A pity."

"Whilst we're on the subject, though, I took the liberty of removing this from the library." Hermione dug into her bag, removed the Gold Book and placed it on the desk between them. "Atreus is new, which always inspires curiosity and gossip. What's worse, no one has ever heard of him before. It seemed inevitable that someone would attempt to look his name up."

Dumbledore gave her a pleased smile, "Once more, you prove yourself to be a very clever young lady and a credit to you house. Five points, Miss Granger."

She hadn't expected _that._ It felt rather...strange, accepting points for something that was both unrelated to school and obvious. Uncertain how to respond, Hermione fidgeted, and then said quietly, "Sir, I really don't like keeping secrets from Harry. It would make more sense to him if we told him, and whilst he might not be happy about it, he would at least understand-"

Professor Dumbledore blinked over his half-moon glasses. "I disagree, Miss Granger. He has a great deal on his mind this year...a very great deal. Best not to add to that burden with something trivial like this."

Hermione's felt herself gape. "But...but Professor, after last year…!"

"You really must trust that I know best, Miss Granger. I will not make the mistake I made last year with him. I will be giving him private lessons and a few important tasks this year on top of his usual schoolwork. As you know, sixth year lessons are not light, it will be quite a lot for him to manage without worrying about Mr. Prince and how he fits in with Harry's animosity toward Professor Snape."

"He's cheating, sir," Hermione blurted. She hadn't, until that moment, been positive about whether or not she would go through with telling on Harry. The words had slipped out, though, and in her frustration, she was glad.

Professor Dumbledore gave her an inscrutable look. After a moment, he seemed to make up his mind about something, and replied gravely, "That is a very serious accusation, Miss Granger. One that may affect more than just Harry, if other students are involved. Are you quite certain that he is cheating?" The threat was subtly made, but there. Clearly, Professor Dumbledore thought Harry was cheating off _her_, and was hoping that the possible consequences would make her drop the subject. It made Hermione's blood boil to hear. She had helped Harry and Ron with their homework in the past, but she had _never_ let them actually copy her work. Hermione crossed her arms and nodded shortly at Professor Dumbledore in response.

Professor Dumbledore regarded her seriously and asked, "In what way is Harry cheating?"

"He's got an old textbook of Professor Snape's, sir. He's copying all of Professor Snape's potion work from when _he_ was a sixth year." Hermione answered evenly.

"Ah, I see." Professor Dumbledore idly fiddled with one of the knickknacks on his desk. "Miss Granger, Professor Snape is an instructor at this institution, and has been for many, many years. Until this year, his subject matter was, indeed, Potions class. Whilst unconventional, surely you can see that a student using a former textbook and insights of a professor could be considered just another form of teaching. Private tutoring, perhaps? No doubt Professor Snape would only be too happy to know that another student was taking his class seriously and utilising all methods at his disposal."

Hermione scowled. "Professor Snape was _not_ a professor when he wrote those notes. Just because he is now doesn't mean his student work can be considered course material. I certainly doubt Professor Snape would be pleased to hear that _Harry_ of all people is copying his work. It's especially unfair to Atreus, sir! He's actually _doing_ all that hard work and Harry is getting just as much credit for it. It's _cheating."_

Professor Dumbledore was silent for a long moment, and then said quietly, "Miss Granger, I would typically not burden you so, but I believe you to be a very mature and responsible young lady. You are within days of reaching your official age of majority within the Wizarding world, at which time you would be eligible to join the Order of the Phoenix should you be invited to do so by its leaders. May I count on your discretion should I entrust you with important information regarding this year?"

A slight chill shivered down Hermione's spine and warred with her indignation and pride. It was an effort not to blurt out immediately that _of course_ she was trustworthy. It was flattering that he thought she was worth treating as an adult, but even so, she felt strangely reluctant to make promises that she might regret later. Professor Snape's frustrated words from earlier came back to her.

_"I cannot do what must be done if you continue to keep secrets and strip my authority."_

Surely it would be better to know than not? Hermione answered slowly, "I believe so, sir. It would depend upon the nature of what I am told. I'll not put people in danger with my silence."

Professor Dumbledore nodded gravely. "Well said, Miss Granger. If you believe that someone is in true danger, you may of course inform your House Head of anything you hear today. There are many things happening this year-things of paramount importance." Professor Dumbledore paused, as if to be sure she understood, and continued, "I am going to be giving Harry a task that no other could do. If he succeeds, it will be a monumental step closer in defeating Voldemort.

"However, in order for Harry to succeed in his ultimate goal, I need-we need-Harry to be Professor Slughorn's favourite student. Professor Slughorn has some very important information and he refuses to share it, or to even admit that he knows it. However, he has shown a weakness in the past for particular pupils of his, and Harry has the advantage of already being someone that Professor Slughorn would like to take under his wing in particular. I have been informed that he has already started to gather a select few students as his personal protégés, that they were invited to sit with him on the train, is that not so?"

Hermione nodded as she understood, and the uneasy feeling in her stomach seemed to calcify into a hard rock. Professor Dumbledore was not going to keep Harry from cheating. He was going to turn a blind eye, or even _encourage_ him to cheat for the sake of Harry's secret mission.

Her fists clenched and unclenched under the desk where the headmaster couldn't see. "You're telling me that Harry's education and the unfair advantage he's getting over other students is worth the cost of getting this information that the professor is otherwise refusing to give. Information, I might add, that you can't even _prove_ he actually has!"

"Yes, Hermione. A fairly cheap price, considering the return-allowing Harry to continue to use Professor Snape's previous textbook does not put anyone in danger-no students are being clubbed by trolls or stone chess pieces, or petrified, no one is being chased by werewolves or dementors. No one is being pitted against magical monsters, Death Eaters or facing Voldemort themselves. No one's wand is being snapped and no one is _dying,_ Hermione, as Mr. Diggory and Mr. Black have already. There are many in the Order who have paid and are paying a far higher price in order to lend their assistance.

"I am sorry this situation disappoints you." His voice made it clear that he was disappointed in her for being upset. "But we all must sacrifice in order to win this war, and this is a small price to pay. Now, I must ask you again for your discretion concerning these events."

Her throat tight, Hermione nodded. "I won't say anything, if it's really that important."

Professor Dumbledore smiled at her and said with surprising lightness, "Thank you, Miss Granger."

Unable to keep herself from asking, Hermione blurted, "Sir? Did you _arrange_ for Harry to get Professor Snape's old textbook?"

Professor Dumbledore's smiled benignly again, the twinkle returning to his pale blue eyes. "No, indeed, Miss Granger. I did not even realise Professor Snape's previous textbook was still about, or that he was prone to keeping his secrets in it. I certainly did not arrange for Harry to come into possession of it. That is merely wonderful good fortune for us, isn't it?"

Good fortune. Yes, Hermione understood all too well. It was difficult not to understand, as unsubtle as the headmaster was being; he had all but smacked his lips.

Hermione smiled tightly, and stood. "Might I have an excuse note for Professor Flitwick, sir? I'm late for N.E.W.T. Charms."

"Of course, of course. Just be sure not to be late for Magical Theory tomorrow, Miss Granger. Professor Saxina's N.E.W.T.-level classes include some ideas that I think you might find fascinating." Professor Dumbledore said idly, writing out a note for her.

Hermione nodded, her feelings a strange mixture of anger, curiosity and resignation. What sort of information could Professor Slughorn have that Professor Dumbledore believed _Harry_ could retrieve when he couldn't?

* * *

><p><em>AN: Thank you for reading! Please review._

_I've written out some of my head-canon notes for the Harry Potter 'verse (focusing on basic magical mechanics/semantics). The little things that don't crop up often but can flavour writing. If you are at all interested in reading you can find them on both AO3 and LiveJournal (links on my profile). Unfortunately I can't post them here, but I'll post links on my profile. I'll be adding to it as the mood strikes me-notes on spell casting, wandlore or the Sorting, etc etc. Some people are really into the behind-the-scenes how-it-works stuff, so I thought I'd share. :-) _


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